


Haunted

by BlackandGrey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drarry, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sexual Reference, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 14:47:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14357676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackandGrey/pseuds/BlackandGrey
Summary: Harry's starting his 5th year at Hogwarts but things aren't the same since the Triwizard tournament last year and it seems there's more than one dark plot at work. Why has Voldemort been so quiet? Why are his friends ignoring him? What is Dumbledore planning? Harry's too busy being suspicious of Malfoy to find out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

 

 Draco turned away from the notice board to grin at Greg, who looked back with an equally excited, if slightly more dazed, smile. Dueling club. Draco’s father had already taught him a few possibly (probably) less than legal curses in preparation for learning how to duel but had always held back from letting him practice even a single curse, much less have a go at dueling with anyone himself. He glanced back at the parchment pinned up on the notice board.

  “It’s on tonight after lessons, we’ll have to tell Vince, he never thinks to check the notices himself.”

  Greg nodded slowly “Who do you think will teach it?”

  Draco looked at him in surprise, impressed that Greg had thought of such a question himself.

  “I’m not sure” he responded, thinking. His eager grin slowly transformed into a scowl. “It better not be bloody Lockhart.”

  Gagging noise sounded from behind Draco and he turned to see Nott grimacing as if he was throwing up on the floor and smirked in agreement at his reaction to thoughts of the vile defense teacher.

  “Theo! Are you okay? Shall I take you to the infirmary?” Greg piped up, worry colouring his voice and raising the pitch, although it was still deep for a second year.

  Draco rolled his eyes as Nott started chuckling.

  “No, Greg he’s fine, just demonstrating what will happen to us all if Lockhart teaches the dueling club tonight.”

  Greg flushed and Draco studied him with concern. Everyone knew Greg was thick, almost as thick as Vincent, but he wasn’t so thick that he didn’t recognize his stupidity and get embarrassed by it. And that, thought Draco, that mile-wide disparity was the foundation for his and Greg’s entire friendship. Sure, the boy was loyal and constant and even gentle but those traits were somewhat too Hufflepuff for Draco’s liking. What Slytherins really admired was power and it was this, the tentative power that Greg found in recognizing his own weakness and rising above the petty mocking that Draco found some kind of delicate respect in and motivation to preserve. Pity was a luxury afforded only to the strong, and stupidity (in a sense vastly different to ignorance) could make a person truly vulnerable.

  “Oh, I’m er sorry. I’ll go tell Vincent about it then… see ya later, Draco.” Greg retreated from the common room, his face bright red while Nott was still laughing. Draco shot him a rueful glare.

 

  Later that night, the hall was packed with what seemed like almost the whole school, the air tense as everyone waited for whichever teacher would be leading this mysterious dueling club. Draco glanced around the room as he waited beside Greg and Vincent as Blaise had expressed no interest in furthering his dueling capabilities. He scowled when he spotted Potter walking in with his faithful sidekicks.

  Millicent sidled up next to them, sneering at Hufflepuff first years that she shoved out of the way with her large frame. Draco rolled his eyes, she really was an annoyance.

  “Hey Draco, still hanging out with the school dunces I see.” He could usually put up with her and the rest of his house-mate’s jeering of his closest friends, ones that had not the comprehension or wit to defend themselves, but he was tired of the blank expression on Vincent’s face when he looked over at Draco, waiting for his reply. He gritted his teeth as he turned to face her.

  “Hey Millicent, still acting as the school bitch I see.” He snapped. Her eyes widened fractionally but she just chuckled, casually shoving his shoulder with the force of a small mammoth so that he had to struggle not to stumble backwards.

  “Lighten up Dray, they know I’m only kidding.” Draco refrained from angrily voicing that _they_ were right here and were perfectly capable of carrying out a conversation themselves but just turned back to the stage, craning his neck to see if any teachers had arrived yet.

  He groaned loudly when he saw Lockhart walk up on to the stage but smirked when Snape followed him up and heard Millicent release a similar sigh of relief. He was close enough to see the rage lurking behind Snape’s cool demeanor when Lockhart introduced him as his ‘assistant’ and cheered with the rest of his house when he blasted Lockhart off his feet in the demonstration. After that the two teachers came around pairing students up to practice and Draco practically trembled with excitement until he realized that it probably wouldn’t be much of a challenge if he was up against Greg or Vincent. He saw Snape breaking Potter and his cronies up and leered at them briefly until Snape called him over to go and pair up with Potter.

  “You guys can go together.” He said distractedly to Vincent and Greg before walking over to Potter, smirking when he saw Millicent do the same as she went to meet Granger.

  He stood to face Potter as Lockhart began the countdown for them all to begin dueling and drew out his wand, amused to see that his presence had wiped the smile from Potter’s face.

  “3….2…”

  Draco slashed his wand down with an _Expelliarmus_ , but it was weak and did little except knock Potter backwards a few paces as Lockhart finally reached “1.”

  Potter’s eyes darkened and Draco felt his blood cool.

  “ _Rictumsempra_!” Potter yelled, making Draco double over as invisible fingers tickled him unceasingly.

  “Disarming spells only!” Lockhart called out but Draco ignored him, aiming his wand at Potter and forcing out a “ _Tarantallegra_ ” between hysterical giggles.

  Potter’s legs starting jerking violently beneath him and Draco would have chuckled if he hadn’t already been out of breath and wheezing from uncontrollable laughter. Potter raised his wand again but Snape was already sweeping over and cast a “ _Finite Incantatem_ ” to stop their respective charms.

  Draco glanced around the room when he felt the invisible fingers retract themselves and was finally able to stand. It looked like his and Potter’s fray wasn’t the only one to get out of hand. Draco smirked to see Millicent holding Granger in a painful looking headlock but Potter quickly leapt up to free his friend.

  “I think I’d better teach you to block unfriendly spells” Lockhart said nervously “Let’s have a demonstration- Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you?”

  Snape swept over to him “A bad idea, Professor Lockhart” he smirked “Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest of spells. How about Malfoy and Potter?”

  Draco’s gaze snapped over to Potter, slightly worried, but he made his way into the center of the hall, the crowd shrinking back, presumably afraid of catching any misaimed charms. But Draco knew that neither of them would miss.

  Lockhart moved towards Potter, speaking to him in confident tones and probably failing to teach him how to block Draco’s spells as Snape bent closer to Draco’s ear.

  “Why don’t you hit him with a _Serpensortia_?” Draco smirked back at him in return. He’d never actually cast one before, but he was certain that he could and that it would shake Potter up adequately, too.

  Potter surveyed Snape and Draco’s matching smirks nervously and asked Lockhart to demonstrate the blocking spell again.

  “Scared?” Draco murmured under his breath, only just loud enough for Potter to hear.

  Potter’s eyes flashed. “You wish.” He muttered back.

  They stood across from each other and only now, as Lockhart began the countdown once again did Draco see the anger and pure hatred that shone from Potter’s clear-eyed gaze. It sent a small shiver down his spine, the expression new on this gentle face but glaringly familiar in the disdain painted clearly upon it. He raised his wand anyway, pushing the crawling fear that look had instilled in him to the back of his consciousness.

  “…1!” Lockhart cried and Draco raised his wand, quicker than startled dust and bellowed “ _Serpensortia!_ ”, and a black snake exploded from the end of his wand, freezing Potter in place. Satisfaction welled in Draco’s belly.

  But then Lockhart shot something at the snake and it flew towards the crowd, hissing at a frightened Hufflepuff, coiling its body, preparing to strike and Draco wasn’t pleased anymore, he was feeling sick at the memory of stories that his spell had conjured in his mind.

  Potter approaching the snake made it worse, called to mind the dark figure of his imagination with high-pitched laughter and decay sewn into his very voice. And then he spoke. Potter slurred something to the snake sounding very much like a hiss and the snake fell back to the floor. Draco slowly backed away, his senses numb and his limbs sluggish with fear and distress as the Hufflepuff ran out of the room. Potter stepped back as if physically pushed by the shocked faces now baring down on him. Draco was relieved when Snape strode in front of him to eye Potter himself, effectively blocking the other boy from his sight.

  Harry was a Parselmouth. Just like- just like- Draco couldn’t bring himself to even think the name, but icy tendrils of fear he had never experienced before were already crawling around his spine, coiling in his stomach, pumping through his veins. What had just happened? He wasn’t sure- it felt like a divination, it felt like a recurrence, it felt like nothing would be the same again. He took a deep and shuddery breath; his father had taught him well- words once spoken and long forgotten thrumming through his ears. _Hell is empty_ he thought. But he’d always known that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1**

 

 Harry lay facing the ceiling, counting the cracks running through the plaster and sighed. Weeks were slowing into days, days into hours and he still hadn’t heard from Ron or Hermione even though a month of the summer holiday had already drifted by. He supposed he should be glad to be bored, glad that he was alive to feel it after all. Besides, last year had been the exact opposite of tedious with the Triwizard tournament and he hadn’t very much enjoyed that either.

  He rolled over to face the window. And wasn’t _that_ the understatement of the year. A flash of white caught his eye from the patch of blue sky visible from his window and he sat up to look closer. Never mind what he had said last month, excitement of any kind was welcome now. The white flash appeared again, closer and he leaned forward. It was a rounded, white object, bobbing closer and closer to his room.

  Harry sighed again, recognizing what he saw and opened the window, holding his wrist out for Hedwig to land on, averting his gaze as she shook her snowy feathers expectantly. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. _Don’t hope for anything, don’t hope for anything, don’t hope for anything._ His eyes flew open and focused on the nothing that Hedwig held in her claws. _Fuck_ , he thought as disappointment crashed through him, he had hoped after all. He ran a finger over Hedwig’s back stroking her feathers until she nipped at his hand eagerly and he fed her a few owl nuts. It had taken her longer than expected to deliver his letters to Ron, Hermione and Sirius this time, almost three days, but he supposed he should be happy that she could enjoy her freedom now that Uncle Vernon had taken the bars down from his window. Never mind that he wasn’t getting anything back.

  Harry let Hedwig climb from his wrist into her cage and sank down onto his bed. It wasn’t just the boredom that Harry was finding it hard to take, it was the lack of _distraction,_ the absence of anything that could divert him from his own thoughts and vivid recollections that swam up from the blankness every time he closed his eyes. Cedric’s pale, lifeless face, disbelief and fear still clinging to his features even as his life faded to nothing. The cruel, high-pitched voice- unfeeling and remorseless saying ‘kill the spare’ without inflection; emotionless even for the life it was about to rip from the world. And worst of all, the body. Risen from black so thick, so foul and unceasing that it seemed like it could have swallowed the Earth. But worse, the thin figure that had ascended with a pale face and eyes like pits had looked at Harry not with the untainted hatred and malevolence that would have made at least some kind of sense, no, those burning eyes had not been indomitably crazed but had examined Harry the way he might’ve examined an insect, with curiosity and all too much sanity. All Harry had wanted at that very moment was to be out of Voldemort’s sight, anywhere but burning under that deadly, observant gaze.

  And then he’d escaped, made his way back to Hogwarts where he felt he could almost stop breathing and die with the relief of it. But he’d had to tell Mr. Diggory what had happened to his son, let him see the lifeless body. Watch the sun set behind the man’s eyes over a bottomless ocean of pain and grief from which it would never rise again. Harry screwed his eyes tightly shut but Cedric’s face screamed behind his eyelids and he could take the guilt no more. He stood up and slammed the window shut, making Hedwig jump and suddenly decided that anything would be better than moping in this stupid room for a second longer. He swung open his trunk and grabbed his invisibility cloak, throwing it over himself. His hand closed over his wand automatically, and his pouch of wizard gold as an afterthought. He was tiptoeing down the stairs and almost reaching the front door when he realized that he had no way of getting anywhere without any muggle money. Inwardly groaning, he slipped his cloak off and went to find Uncle Vernon.

  The humungous man was currently taking up almost an entire sofa, watching TV while Dudley dominated a plushy armchair in the front room. He could hear pots and pans clanging distantly where Aunt Petunia was cooking in the kitchen. Harry cleared his throat loudly.

  Uncle Vernon looked up at him, disgruntled. “What do you want now, boy?” He said disinterestedly.

  “Well, I was wondering if maybe you could lend me some money for the...” Harry trailed off at the look of disgust on the man’s face.

  “What? Thinking you can take our money now too? PETUNIA, get in here!”

  “No, no” Harry said hurriedly “It’s just that er-” And then inspiration hit “It’s just that, well my godfather, you know the murderous one?”

  Uncle Vernon paled.

  “Well he’s been sending me letters asking if I’m alright and-”

  “And you’ve told him how nice we are to you, yes?” Uncle Vernon asked warily.

  “Yes, yes of course. It’s just… that he’s not particularly trusting with all the authorities searching for him, you see, and he wanted to meet me in person, just to check I’m doing okay.”

  Uncle Vernon was silent for a moment, sweat beginning to bead at the top of his blotchy forehead.

  “Well of course you’re going, wouldn’t want to _inconvenience_ him or have him-” Uncle Vernon shuddered “-turning up here or anything.”

  “Of course,” Harry grinned “I just needed a bit of money for the train fare.”

  Uncle Vernon nodded furiously, quickly handing Harry a wallet of money. Harry glanced over at Dudley to see the large boy cowering behind his armchair in fright. He suppressed a sudden burst of laughter and ran out of the house as fast as he could.

  As he made his way up the front garden path a loud _crack_ suddenly sounded from somewhere to his right, just how it sounded when Dobby disappeared and reappeared from thin air. He looked around wildly for a second, before realizing that whoever it was must have disapparated. Harry shook his head, clearing it- he had probably imagined it. He squared his shoulders and continued on his way to the train station.

 

  When Harry finally arrived in London, he quickly entered Diagon Alley, eager to keep his head down. Alone and with little to do, he set about finding his school books, already anxious to skip past the long summer weeks still stretching ahead and for the next school term to start. He started at Flourish and Blotts, glad when he could pass by Madame Malkins without entering- dress robes were thankfully not required for this year. He stopped by a few more places, buying a new quill and some extra ink. It didn’t take long for Harry to collect everything he needed which, unfortunately, left him without a lot to do so of course he ended up outside the Quidditch shop, staring in among a crowd of other people, and of course he was there at exactly the wrong time.

  “Harry Potter?” A high and irritating voice squealed.

  Everyone around him stared at Harry, recognition dawning on many of their faces. Harry turned around uncomfortably.

  “Oh, it _is_ you! What a fair bit of luck this is!” Harry glanced at the crocodile handbag, the fancy coat, the small notebook caged by long red finger nails.

  “Rita Skeeter.” He acknowledged wearily. He had gone almost the whole day without being recognized by anyone, friend or foe, but of the people he had been most pleased not to see, Rita Skeeter had been right at the top of the list.

  Her red claws closed quickly around his arm like a vice and she speedily hauled him away from the crowd of spectators now looking at him with a mixture of surprise and disgust in their eyes. Disgust? He’d figure that one out later.

  “So how have you been my dear?” The journalist asked, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “The wizarding world has been just _dying_ to know what the youngest Triwizard winner has been up to. What have you been doing? How have you spent your winnings? How is that _lovely_ girl doing? Henrietta, was it?” She spoke at lightning speed giving Harry no time to even consider her questions, let alone answer them.

  “I really don’t have time to-” Harry began but Skeeter cut him off quickly.

  “I would _really_ love it, really really really love it if you could come to my office for a quick interview...”

  At that Harry tried to rip his arm from her grasp but she was surprisingly strong and he couldn’t seem to pry her fingers off of him as she quickly turned them onto an alley way that Harry had never been down before.

  “I really don’t think this is a good idea.” Harry said, more to himself than to her, she didn’t appear to be paying any attention to what he said anyway.

  “Nonsense, nonsense” she chattered on “What luck that you should be in Diagon Alley the very same day as me!” Harry groaned at his terrible luck just as Rita pulled him to a stop outside a tall building that he hardly had time to glance up at before she hauled him inside. Dragging him down a deserted corridor, she finally stopped her incessant prattling.

  “Where exactly are we?” Harry demanded, frustration seeping into his tone but Rita just tutted gently, pushing him through a door with her name inscribed across the top.

  “My office silly! Now take a seat.” She finally released his arm (Harry was sure her grip had left bruises) and he unwillingly sank onto a soft, cushioned futon as he glanced around the small room.

  The walls were a revoltingly vibrant green shade and were covered with various newspaper articles, each with _‘by journalist Rita Skeeter’_ extolled below the title. Harry noticed one plastered with his own face from his interview for the Triwizard tournament, right beside an article with an interview with the Minister himself and scowled, dazedly wondering how many lives had been ruined in this very office. Rita had settled behind a big desk in front of him, scattered with different magic quills and coloured ink. He saw her glance quickly up at him before grabbing some newly-printed copies of The Prophet and shoving them into a random desk drawer.

  “So, Harry, darling, how have things been going for you?” She beamed at him with blindingly white teeth. Harry scowled at her and shut his mouth quickly. He would not let her twist his words or fabricate another interview with him again.

  “Oh come on, _don’t_ be like that, you know I didn’t have a choice. I have to report the news, it’s my job!” She grinned a toothy, shark-like grin at him “It’s not like I actually enjoy publishing the gossip.” Harry glowered. She clearly enjoyed it far too much. Now he just had to come up with some excuse to get out of here as fast as possible before she could make up another stupid story about him like last time.

  “Look, I’ll be honest with you, Harry” She continued, her grin suddenly dissipating “I just need your opinion on Fudge’s statement. On his attitude towards you and Dumbledore, now that the whole world has seen it.” Harry narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t heard anything about a statement from the Minister what with being locked away with the Dursleys all summer, much less heard anything from Dumbledore himself, but he wouldn’t let Skeeter know that.

  “I’m not saying anything to you” He said, with more anger in his voice than he’d expected “and if you don’t get me out of this place right now, I will owl the ministry today about your less -er- _legal_ forms of acquiring information.”

  Skeeter gave him a sour look but he just raised an eyebrow.

  “Fine” she sighed, rolling her eyes and stood up from her desk to show him the way out.

 

  Harry shook his head at himself when Skeeter finally, _finally_ left him alone and he started traipsing slowly back towards the train station. What was it with that woman? Was she utterly determined to make his life as miserable as possible? And how could she have even begun to think that he would be willing to let her interview him after the way her reports had turned out last year? He mentally chastised himself. He should’ve known that he couldn’t show his face anywhere in the wizarding world without someone bothering him. And what was that Skeeter had said about Cornelius Fudge? It had been too long since Harry had spoken to Ron and Hermione. _They_ probably knew what was happening, he thought bitterly. They were probably having a great summer while he was left mercilessly in the dark.  He pushed the angry feelings aside as he walked, glad at least that he hadn’t wasted another day at home like every other day he had this summer.

  It was just as he was stepping through the train door that he heard it again, a sharp _crack_ and a faint breeze hitting the back of his head. He spun around but there was only empty air behind him. He narrowed his eyes- this time he was sure that he hadn’t imagined it. He breathed deeply for a second, calming his scattered nerves before pushing on into the train and finding himself an empty seat.

  He sat nervously, drumming his fingers against his thigh, his other hand tightening around his wand in his pocket. Who was following him? He sucked in a breath. It was _them_ \- it had to be. He slammed his eyes shut and he could see the robed figures, masked and standing in a broken circle. He could feel their breath as they stood motionless, their robes swirling around their feet, flowing in the air though there was no wind. He could hear the high-pitched voice that commanded them- cold, colder than ice, colder than death,

  Harry jumped and shivered violently as the train shuddered to a halt. His eyes flew open but there was no imposing figure standing over him, no one even looking at him. He forced himself to calm down before getting up and walking home as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself, unable to keep from glancing over his shoulder every few minutes. He felt exposed all of a sudden, walking down the empty streets of Little Whinging as the sky began to darken and wished he hadn’t left his invisibility cloak crumpled in a corner in his haste to leave after the confrontation with his Uncle. After what seemed like an eternity of walking, he finally made it back to Privet Drive. He was releasing a sigh of relief and hurrying up to number 4 when he heard it again for the third time that day. _Crack_. He froze in his tracks.

  “Who’s there?” He called out, spinning around because he was certain that no one had been following behind him. He glimpsed someone standing, watching him from between the branches of one of Aunt Petunia’s bushes and saw them start to step around it, towards him.

  Harry felt panicky all of a sudden, and sprinted the last few steps into the house, grabbing his invisibility cloak and racing upstairs. Dumbledore had told him that no one could touch him while he was staying with his Aunt and Uncle, but he locked his window and closed his door anyway, suddenly realizing how stupid, how dangerous it had been to go all the way up to London alone and with no protection.

  It was fully dark now anyway, the moon filtering delicate shards of light into his room, the air still and somehow far too tranquil. Harry got into bed and tried to relax, thoroughly exhausted all of a sudden now that the adrenaline that had coursed through his veins in sheer panic was beginning to thin.

  He let his eyes flutter gently closed and a small smile tugged at his lips. Whatever today had been, it had not been boring. Not boring at all.

 

* * *

 

 

_He was sliding beneath smoke, over rough stones and slippery grass. His body was long and graceful, smooth like liquid. He glided forwards, his lungs somehow clear despite the dust and ash that drifted around him, through the air like cruel snowflakes. The wind tore against the trees, contorted their branches into unnatural shapes and swept away their leaves, blackening the colours and washing them away. But the wind could not reach him, close to the ground though it buffeted against his glassy scales. Still, he moved forwards._

_On and on, though the slippery pace tired his muscles, he moved. Through the undergrowth, beginning to rise up from the grassy hillside, branches creaked and groaned. Small creatures disappeared into the bushes to free his path. He could have matched their scurrying pace, he could have taken them as easily as snuffing a flickering candle. But he didn’t. He slithered on. Towards a broken circle, slowly becoming whole again. Towards a house, burning not from flames but from fiery thirst of the being that resided there and the blistering fear of those that followed him. Towards his master, finally intact._

_It took a long time, more than humans would call a day and at the same time less than they would count an hour. Magic worked in strange ways like that. However long the fleeting eternity took, he had arrived. He slipped through cracks beneath doors, slithered up a winding bannister, trailing dust and black in his wake. He reached a landing, dark but for the flicker of greenish light shining through a key hole. He slithered beneath the door, floorboards splintering and moaning beneath his weight, and coiled in frightened desire when his master finally laid empty eyes upon him, pale face contorted in horrific semblance of something like a smile._

_“Good, you are here.” His master said, high-pitched voice cold, making him shiver in icy pleasure._

_A half circle of robed figures surrounded his master, each one bent over, somewhere between a bow and a fearful cower. All was as it should be._

_“Rise, my disciples.” The icy voice commanded, and each silhouette abided, rising in perfect synchronization, tied together as one._

_“Today marks the beginning of the end for some. For the weak. For those too frail to stand by my side and grasp the power we deserve.” Though the voice rose in volume, it did not waver in pitch._

_“But for those in this room, and those out serving faithfully as I command, today is the beginning of greatness. The beginning of an era of perfection and purity. Today we begin to take back what was once ours.” The robed figures at once raised their heads and lowered their hoods revealing a row of faces, twisted by the dim light, features contorted into fearful elation and he slid between them. Delight sparking down his spine at the concealed flinches extracted each time he brushed past the bottom of a robe._

_One stepped forward, blond hair dyed crimson in the harsh light, spilling slowly down his neck. Eyes lowered, he clasped his hands in front of him._

_“How shall we begin, Master?” He asked, voice anxious but unshaking._

_“Lucius, my old friend. You are intuitive as always.” The blond man stepped back quickly into formation as his master replied._

_“There is only one way to begin” That cold voice continued. And all was silent for a moment. He stopped slithering, the robed men stopped breathing, it seemed the very wind had ceased all because one cruel master had commanded it. And when he spoke again, his voice was the splintered ice of winter, the lurid screams of a thousand innocents, the silence that winds around bone, creeps through veins and blackens beating hearts._

_“The boy. We must begin with the boy.”_

 

 

  Harry sat up gasping for breath, his hands clasping his forehead in a desperate grimace. The pain was fierce and unbearable and he fought to keep his teeth clenched, his tongue silent even as it gradually faded away. Already the dream’s violent clarity was waning, like when clouds conceal the light of the moon, but he grasped on to any remaining echoes of his dream he could and fought to keep them there.

  A burning house, he thought, and a boy. They needed a boy. Judging by the furious agony, still lingering in his pounding head, it must have been something relating to _him_. Only now was he beginning to understand why so many refused to speak his name. The word was violent sibilance of hatred and rage and Harry could hardly breathe to imagine those burning, bottomless eyes. But what did Voldemort want with a boy? Harry had the terrifying feeling that it might be him the Dark Lord sought and he barely suppressed a shudder.

  The night was fully black now. No moon or even stars to brighten the darkness swirling inside Harry’s head. He got up, slipping on his glasses and walked over to his window, cracking it open to gulp down fresh, cold air. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs, very aware of the way his heavy breathing broke through the silence and tugged at the delicate suspension that held dusky peace in reign over the night. He glanced down at the garden below him, not even a breeze rustling through Aunt Petunia’s perfectly pruned bushes in stark contrast to the heavy weather of his vision. Maybe it really had been just a dream.

  Something suddenly caught his eye in the corner of the garden. He squinted down, trying to make out anything other than the shadows stretching through the grass. There it was again! It moved merely a fraction of an inch but Harry could see it. A darker patch against the stillness of its surroundings. He held his breath, not daring to move at all until his eyes focused on it, a dark figure crouching at the corner of Aunt Petunia’s garden. Harry frowned, too numb to feel scared. It was time to end this once and for all.

  “Hey!” he called fiercely down, beckoning the ominous presence over. His thoughts were racing and he barely knew what he was doing. _It’s okay_ he told himself _they can’t hurt me in this house_. Besides, if it was a Death Eater, surely they would have captured or killed him already when he had been alone and vulnerable all of yesterday. He saw the black silhouette slowly detach itself from the shadows surrounding it and walk deliberately towards him. Harry forced himself to remain still, his fingers grasping the window sill so tightly that his knuckles turned white. As whoever it was approached him, he saw them raise a hand holding a wand-shaped object and Harry instinctively ducked down beneath the window sill, but when he raised his head to look, heart thundering, they had just cast a _lumos_ , bathing their face in a pool of yellow light. Harry inhaled in surprise and relief.

  “Professor Lupin!” He gasped, seeing a familiar smile light up the weathered face “What are you doing here?”

  “Sorry if I gave you a fright Harry, it’s almost the end of my shift.”

  “Shift? What are you doing here?”

   “We’ve been keeping an eye on you.”

 “Keeping an eye on me? Y-you mean because of Voldemort?” Lupin flinched “Do you really think he’s going to come after me?” Harry asked

  Lupin eyed him with gentle concern “We’re not certain what he’s planning Harry, that’s why we’re here.”

  “We?”

  “Oh yes, everyone in The Order has been taking shifts to watch over you. Mundungus made me switch early yesterday” He rolled his eyes “Something about almost losing you on a train.”

  Harry blinked and his heart steadied in relief once again, it _hadn’t_ been the Death Eaters following him.

  “The Order?” He asked, confused.

  “The Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore never told you?” Harry shook his head and Lupin’s voice took on the confident tone he had used while teaching “Oh. Well the Order was formed as a secret organization to fight against You-know-who 15 years ago when, well…” He trailed off and looked down, his eyes suddenly clouded with the ghosts of things long since passed. Harry stared at him, thinking for a moment, of everything he had lost before he’d even been old enough to know he had anything to lose.

  “Yeah” he muttered.

  “Anyway, Dumbledore has assembled us all again after what happened at the Tournament.” Lupin finished.

  Harry looked at him in disbelief. Of course, he’d known that Dumbledore couldn’t be sitting around doing nothing after Harry had told him what had happened, but he’d thought the man would have at least contacted him once, if only to bring Harry some impression of reassurance.

  “Who’s in The Order?” He asked curiously, brushing off the tangled threads of bitterness clinging in his mind.

  Lupin looked thoughtful “Well Dumbledore of course, Sirius, Moody, Tonks, Snape” -he scowled- “Arthur, Molly and most of the others you wouldn’t know I expect.”

  “Snape?” He said, gaping incredulously

  Lupin grimaced “Yes, he’s a member of The Order” -He broke off and muttered “unfortunately” under his breath making Harry smirk- “although he doesn’t always come to our meetings. I haven’t seen him for a while in fact. Probably not a fan of all the kids at the headqua...” He broke off, suddenly eyeing Harry with a worried expression.

  “Kids?” Harry asked

  “Er yes well Arthur and Molly’s, er the Weasleys have been staying at the headquarters for most of the summer. For safety you know? And then there’s Hermione and…”

  Harry turned away. So he had been right. Ron and Hermione were off having a great summer without him _together_ , while he was stuck here alone without a single letter…

  “Look, Harry” He spun back around to see Lupin eyeing him nervously. “I don’t think it’s fair to have you stuck here on you own no matter what Dumble- er no matter what _some people_ might think is best for you.”

  Harry looked at him blankly, struggling to keep the aching bitterness off his face.

  “When I get back to the headquarters tomorrow, I’ll tell the others that we need to bring you too, okay?”

  Harry smiled ruefully. “It’s alright professor, really. School is only a few weeks away anyway.”

  Lupin looked down “I think you’d better start calling me Remus.” -Harry glanced at him in surprise- “and I’ll tell them anyhow, okay? Get ready to leave for tomorrow night.” He looked up and smiled at Harry gently.

  “But it’s good to see you, Harry.”

  Harry beamed back with his first real smile in months “It’s good to see you too, Remus.”

 

  The next morning, Harry was up bright and early despite the late hour that he had spoken to Lupin. The man had had to return to his watching post anyway so Harry had drawn his curtains self-consciously before going back to bed and trying to sleep despite the excitement growing in the pit of his stomach. He started packing his trunk as soon as he got up- he could barely stand sticking around in this dull house any longer. The only snag in his eagerness to escape was the resentment that he couldn’t seem to shake from his mind, clouding his thoughts and tinging his elation at prospects of seeing his best friends again. Because seriously, could they not have managed a single letter?

  Harry exhaled and tried to ignore his feelings, focusing instead on the anticipation of finally being free of his relatives as he lazily chucked his school clothes and equipment into his trunk before taking it all out and folding it neatly when he realized that he still had hours to wait until he could leave.

  He mulled around his room, wasting time until about midday when he decided he could take no more of staring at the same four walls and decided to get some fresh air. He shoved his wand in his pocket and, glancing uncomfortably at the curtains still drawn across his window, threw on his invisibility cloak too.

  Harry closed his door quietly behind him and crept silently down the stairs, unsure of how closely his surveillance would be monitoring him. Finally, he snuck out of the front door, not letting it slam behind him and distantly hoped that Moody wouldn’t be on shift right now. He walked a little way up Privet Drive and made sure that he was out of sight of number four before quickly slipping off his cloak, stuffing it in his jacket pocket and continuing on his way. He couldn’t hear any cracks behind him and grinned a little before wondering why he had felt the need to sneak out under the cover of his cloak in the first place. He guessed it was just the thought of constantly being watched that was making him uncomfortable. Moody’s mantra ‘constant vigilance’ had certainly been given new meaning.

After walking a few metres, he realized that he was just wandering aimlessly. He pondered for a second before striding off towards one of his old lonely hangouts- the park. It only took a few minutes to reach it and Harry looked around with new interest, having been too distracted with his misery and boredom earlier in the holiday to come even here. The grass may have grown a little wilder, the tree branches a little more tangled but overall the place didn’t seem to have changed at all. He sat down on one of the swings and pushed off forcefully with his legs, swinging into the air. Same boring park, same boring swings he thought mournfully.

  He kept swinging but let his eyes fall shut, letting dizziness and painful childhood memories wash over him. Up and down. Up and down. He opened his eyes and checked his watch. 2 minutes had passed. Harry sighed, the day was never going to end.

  He slowed the swing to a gentle sway as he heard voices approaching from the other side of the park.

  “Awesome upper cut Big D!”

  “Had him squealing like a pig!”

  “We’ve got to do this again tomorrow.”

  Harry groaned internally, recognizing his gigantic cousin swaggering towards him, trailed by his faithful gang. They were making a beeline straight for the swings but Harry felt reassured by the pressure of his wand tucked in his pocket. In fact, Harry mused, it might be quite enjoyable to taunt Dudley with friends around, watching his cousin struggle between being unable to anger Harry for his fear of magic while at the same time not wanting to lose face with his friends. Harry slowly smirked and kept swinging.

  The sun was still high in the sky, silhouetting Dudley’s enormous frame as he noticed Harry’s presence but pretended not to and kept on walking.

  “Hey Big D, it’s your smelly cousin!” Dudley’s best friend Piers piped up. Harry heard Dudley’s resigned grunt as he swung around to face him. Harry grinned.

  “Hey Big D” he said, “Who’ve you been beating up today?”

  Dudley didn’t answer.

  “Mark Evans.” Gordon said, looking smug.

  “Oh wow, another ten-year-old, how many of you did it take to beat him up?” Harry asked, his smile fading “Three? Four? All of you?”

  Dudley took an angry step towards him, fists clenching at his sides.

  “Yeah Big D, take him out!” said Malcom

  “Get him, Dud!”

  Harry stopped swinging, very obviously reaching his hand into his pocket. Dudley froze in place, the anger falling from his face.

  “I bet it did take all five of you to get that boy.” Harry snarled, real fury coursing through him as he recalled all the times he _had_ been on the receiving end of Dudley’s fists.

  Dudley grimaced again, taking another step towards him once it became clear that Harry wasn’t going to curse him. Harry swore under his breath and tensed, getting ready to run- he couldn’t risk of being expelled from Hogwarts for practicing underage magic.

  Dudley drew back a fist, his friends jumping up and down, egging him on until _crack_. The sound wasn’t magical this time, but still very loud as a fist-sized stone slammed against Dudley’s head and bounced off. The boy’s eyes widened, flicking down to Harry’s hand still curled loosely around the wand in his pocket.

  _Crack_ a second stone came flying through the air and hit Piers on the shoulder.

  “Ouch!” the short boy exclaimed.

  And then all of a sudden, dozens of stones came flying through the air, hailing down on the gang, each one of them squealing like pigs themselves and hopping around trying to avoid the sudden attack.

  Harry would’ve started laughing if he didn’t suddenly hear a wave of cackles arise from a few feet away. As the laughter grew, the stones stopped flying and Harry and the gang turned as one to look at who had started the sudden assault. Two enormous figures who could each easily rival Dudley in size and one tall, thin one that stood between them were almost bent over double with laughter.

  “Hey!” Dudley roared and the three boys straightened up. The two big ones picked up more stones and advanced towards Harry and Dudley’s gang.

  “Er… you can do it Big D…” Malcolm cheered half-heartedly and started backing away followed by the rest of Dudley’s gang.

  “What do you want?” Dudley called out nervously to the approaching boys. When it became clear that neither were answering, Malcolm turned tail and fled, Piers and the rest of the gang hot on his heels. Dudley hesitated a moment, glancing at Harry before hauling his huge body after his friends. Harry rolled his eyes and stood up, curious himself as to who these unexpected allies might be, but as they got closer, his heart sank.

  “What do you want?” He snarled over the shock that he should see these three people that he hated so intensely in Little Whinging of all places.

  “Well, we rather thought we were saving you.” Malfoy drawled, his lips curling in their usual smirk, Crabbe and Goyle chuckling on either side of him.

  “And why would I need saving from you?” Harry growled, abruptly suspicious “And why would you want to help me anyway? What are you doing here?”

  “So many questions” Malfoy sneered “They’ll be answered soon enough.”

  He suddenly lunged forward, grasping on to Harry’s wrist before seizing hold of an old boot that Harry hadn’t noticed was dangling from Goyle’s fingers and forcing Harry’s hand onto it.

  “Quickly!” Malfoy hissed at Crabbe as Harry tried to wrench his arm free in shock.

  Crabbe grabbed hold of the boot too, just in time before Harry felt a tugging behind his navel and the whole world disintegrated into faint blurs of juddering colour.

  The portkey jerked Harry forwards and all the air was forced out of his lungs. He barely had time to think but for one thought: where in the bloody hell were they taking him?


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2**

 

  Harry blinked once and everything fell sharply back into focus. He yanked his hand back from the manky old boot and out of Malfoy’s grip even as he was hurtling towards the ground.

  _Smack_. He landed right on his face. Two similar noises filled his ears as Crabbe and Goyle landed on either side of him, stumbling onto their behinds. Harry groaned and looked up to see Malfoy smirking from where he had landed lightly on his feet, the used portkey still gripped tightly between his fingers. Harry scrambled to his feet and glowered at Malfoy.

  “What the bloody HELL do you think you’re-”

  “Language, Potter.” A cool voice from behind Harry calmly cut him off. He spun around and his heart almost stopped in his chest. He was face to face with none other than Lucius Malfoy. Harry’s eyes widened, his heart lurching back into motion, beating so hard he thought it might burst from his ribcage. Tendrils of fear crawled up the back of his neck. The last time he had seen this man was in a graveyard. The last time he had seen this man, Cedric had died.

  Harry backed away quickly, eyes big with disbelief.

  “W-what are you doing here?” He managed, icy fingers sliding up his throat, making him stammer. There was something else about Lucius Malfoy, something he was forgetting but he couldn’t quite grasp what and the memory was fading, like raindrops washed away in the midst of a storm.

  “Well, Potter, this _is_ my house.” The man sneered as Harry recovered his wits, more balanced now that he could feel the weight of his wand still resting in his pocket. He slid his fingers tightly around it, rage quickly replacing his fear.

  “What am _I_ doing here then?” Harry spat, quickly glancing at his surroundings and only just stopping himself from gaping at the huge foyer they had arrived in, leading up to a fancy-looking winding staircase, a marble floor slippery beneath his feet and a gigantic chandelier gleaming above his head.

  “Don’t worry Potter” Lucius said, his lips quirking “we’re not going to hand you over to the Dark Lord just yet.” Though the man’s pale eyes were bright with their usual malice.

  Harry narrowed his eyes “How did you find me?”

  “Well you can blame yourself and dear old Rita Skeeter for that.”

  “My trip to Diagon?” Harry said, surprised.

  “Indeed. As luck would have it- “

  “Let me guess” Harry growled “That just _happened_ to be the same day that you and Draco were in town.”

  Lucius smirked affirmatively.

  Harry swore under his breath, cursing his damn, stupid, _terrible_ luck.

  “Actually, it was whoever was tailing you that slipped up” Draco Malfoy said and Harry slowly turned to face him. “They’ve been covering your tracks all summer but yesterday one of them lost you.”

  _Mundungus_ , Harry thought depressedly, whoever that was.

  “And from that slip it was possible to track you to your house, or I suppose _shack_ would be more accurate.”

  Harry glimpsed the chandelier dripping crystals again, of course number 4 Privet Drive would seem like a miniscule hovel to these people.

  “But you haven’t answered my main question.” Harry said, “If you’re not planning on handing me over to Voldemort, then why _am_ I here?”

  Father and son were both quiet for a moment and the only sound was Crabbe and Goyle still wheezing on the floor.

  “I think we’ll address that later.” Lucius said in a low voice, his callous gaze diverting from Harry and coming to rest on the two boys now pushing their hefty bodies up from the marble floor. Tension was building in every fibre of Harry’s body, muscles pulled taut in preparation to flee or fight, whichever was needed first.

  Lucius fixed a cold, expectant gaze on his son and Draco stiffened subtly.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Greg, Vincent?” He said quickly.

  Crabbe and Goyle glanced at each other and then at Malfoy, surprise evident in their faces, each jerking their heads at him in a rough acknowledgment of their dismissal, avoiding eye contact with Lucius before swaggering side by side towards the door. Harry kept his eyes on them as they made their exit.

  “Now will you tell me what-” Harry broke off as he looked back around to face Lucius again but the man had disappeared. He heard a door slam somewhere along the hallway, the only sound indicating the man’s silent exit.

  Draco Malfoy coughed and Harry looked away from the corridor stretching endlessly away from him to glare viciously at the other boy.

  “Father wants me to show you to your room.” He said, an innocently neutral expression still somehow cool on his pointed features.

  Harry’s eyebrows rose in amazement once again.

  “I’m not _staying_ ” he said, revolted.

  Malfoy gave him a small smirk. “It’s not like you exactly have a choice.” And with that he spun sharply on his heel and strode off towards the staircase, as if expecting Harry to follow him.

  _Yeah right_ , Harry thought disgustedly and headed over to the door he had just seen Crabbe and Goyle leave from. But just as he neared the exit, _Clunk_. Harry was forced back a few steps. His brow creased and he stepped forward again, more forcefully but his body slammed against something hard. He reached a hand out towards the door knob but an invisible wall blocked it from his grasp. He stepped away in shock before pressing both of his palms against what felt like a cold sheet of glass. He scowled and drew back a fist to try and punch through it.

  “I wouldn’t try that if I were you.” Malfoy called out breezily from somewhere behind him. “Not unless you want to break a few dozen bones in your hand.”

  Harry whirled around and glowered at him, standing at the foot of the winding staircase that disappeared upwards and out of sight.

  “Follow me or let father find out you disobeyed him.” Malfoy shrugged “I guess you do have a choice after all.” And with that he pranced arrogantly up the stairs.

  Harry hesitated, picturing the cold malevolence that Lucius exuded, shrouded in dark robes, the wicked glint in his eyes that had been evident even behind a mask. He shivered involuntarily and hurried to catch up with Draco.

  Malfoy glanced over his shoulder, grinning when he saw that Harry had followed him after all. Upstairs, the floors were obscured in thick carpets and the walls were adorned with expensive looking paintings- mostly portraits, all enormous and dark in palette.

  “That’s Father’s study” Malfoy said, pointing at a door made of gleaming, black wood “Don’t go in there, trust me.” Was it Harry or was real terror lurking at the back of Malfoy’s grey eyes?

  Harry crossed his arms and said nothing as they walked further up the hallway.

  “That’s the latrine, there’ll be another attached to your room of course.” Malfoy said, pointing at another door “This is my parents room, there’s mine and here we are.”

  He twisted the brassy door knob of a lighter wooden door, swinging it open and stepping back to let Harry walk in. Harry just looked at him, unwilling to enter first- this was the Malfoy manor after all. Who knew what nasty traps lay in wait?

  Malfoy rolled his eyes and disappeared through the door while Harry sighed and followed before stopping in his tracks in astonishment. The room was _enormous_ \- bigger, even, than Dudley’s at Privet Drive, bigger than all of the Weasley bedrooms combined. The walls were pasted with antique wall paper and the carpet was dyed a speckled grey. A real fireplace took up one of the walls and a big window the other, complete with heavy green drapes and even a window seat. A four poster, even bigger than the one he had at Hogwarts, dominated the wall opposite the door, decked in serpent green. Harry’s mouth hung open.

  “You can stay in here for- well, for however long you’re here I suppose. It’s one of the guestrooms.” Malfoy’s dispassionately polite manner was not making any of this easier for Harry to take.

  “Guestroom? I’m surprised you’re not throwing me in the dungeons!” Harry exclaimed incredulously “How long are you planning on keeping me here?”

  Malfoy eyed him evenly for a beat before shrugging again. “However long Father wants to keep you, I suppose.”

  Harry ground his teeth furiously but said nothing.

  “Look, you’d better get dressed for dinner. Father won’t be happy if you miss it and” -Malfoy eyed Harry’s worn jeans and ripped t-shirt scornfully- “we like to keep ourselves presentable around here.”

  Harry shot him a look. “Well it’s going to be hard for me to change seeing as all my clothes are at my house WHERE I WOULD ALSO BE IF-”

  “Okay, okay!” Malfoy interrupted irritably “Calm down, you can borrow one of my suits.”

  Harry made sure his repulsion for _that_ idea was plain on his face but Malfoy ignored it, striding quickly from the room.

  As soon as the other boy had closed the door behind him, Harry sank down onto the bed, dropping his head in his hands. What the _fuck_ was going on? Why, oh why had he thought it safe to sneak out in his invisibility cloak when such a number of people were clearly trying to protect him from something? How had he been so stupid? Harry groaned aloud. And now he was trapped here for Merlin knew how long, until Lucius Malfoy decided, at his own leisure, whether to let Harry go or turn him over to the maniac that had killed his parents. How was he going to get out of this?

  He raised his head slowly and glanced at the window. The sun was beginning to set, stretching crimson rays across the floor of the room as if reaching out to Harry in a burning farewell before it disappeared behind the Earth. Harry started shivering as misery and fear crashed through him. It looked like he would have to kiss goodbye any chance of seeing his friends again too. _No,_ he told himself. He would find a way to survive this- whatever it was- he always did.

  He pulled himself together just in time as Malfoy pushed the door open again without knocking and strode haughtily in.

  “Here you go” he said, laying something grey and silky on the bed beside Harry “At least you’ll look at least a _little_ more respectable now.” He rolled his eyes again at the sight of Harry’s messy appearance before marching back out of the room without waiting for a reply.

  Harry shook his head slightly, steeling himself for whatever horrid surprises lay in store and reached out to finger the clothes that Malfoy had left for him. It felt soft and was clearly high-quality. He held up what looked like suit trousers, a dark grey jacket and a silky black shirt. He rolled his eyes internally at the posh clothes that the Malfoy’s apparently attired daily before realizing with a jolt of surprise that these were muggle clothes. He had been too fixated on his astonishment to notice it earlier, but Malfoy had definitely been wearing jeans. Dark, expensive looking ones yes, but jeans all the same. He shrugged briefly, pushing lingering tremors of dread from his mind and quickly changed into the suit. The trouser legs may have been a little too long, but other than that it seemed to fit fine. Picking up the jacket he had been wearing, he glanced nervously at the door before grabbing the invisibility cloak stuffed in the pocket and shoving it under his bed. Then he took out his wand and slid it up his sleeve. He located another door beside his bed and opened it, revealing an adjoining bathroom. Shaking his head at the extravagance, he walked in and looked himself up and down in the full-length mirror. He had to admit that the suit definitely neatened his appearance although his hair was still an unruly mess and his trainers looked slightly ridiculous sticking out from the bottom of the fancy trousers.

  He walked back into the bedroom when he heard a faint knocking coming from the door. He opened it to find Malfoy waiting for him and looking impatient about it. He shifted uncomfortably as Malfoy eyed his appearance critically, sneering faintly down at Harry’s muddy trainers. Malfoy himself, Harry was relieved to see, was wearing a similar style suit jacket and trousers in a deep navy colour.

  “Come on, Potter” He smirked and they set off down the hall.

  As they trod carefully down the stairs, Malfoy looked at Harry, suddenly serious.

  “You’d better be polite Potter, I’m warning you. And don’t speak unless spoken to first. Copy what I do with the cutlery, I doubt you’ve seen a dessert fork before in your life.” Malfoy grinned a little when he said the last part but his features remained sober and almost… nervous? If Malfoy was this jumpy about a simple dinner with his family, Harry was having serious doubts about how well he’d fare, so he omitted any scornful response and just nodded.

  It didn’t take long to reach the bottom of the stairs, after which Malfoy led Harry across the foyer and down the endless hallway that Lucius had disappeared down earlier. They passed a few different doors on the right before they approached one that had been left open. Malfoy entered straight away but Harry faltered for a moment, taking a deep breath to settle his nerves before following him in.

  The doorway opened up into a wide, airy dining room with pale walls and a polished mahogany floor. A table stretched several feet across and dominated the generous space. Malfoy’s parents were already seated at the far end of the table and the sight of Lucius’ impassive features at the head was enough to send shivers of anxiety scraping across Harry’s skin. He hurried over.

  Sliding into the chair beside Malfoy, Harry found himself opposite to a pale, austere woman that he recognized from last year’s Quidditch fiasco. She sat with her back impossibly straight and her face sternly composed, although her eyes softened as they passed over Draco and lingered on Harry inquisitively. No one spoke but Lucius snapped his fingers in a sharp _crack_ that resonated through the room and almost made Harry jump out of his skin. Two house-elves appeared immediately, each carrying steaming china bowls which they set in front of each person and Harry realized, with a sudden pang, that he was starving. As soon as the house-elves disappeared, Narcissa looked across the table at Harry, although he could barely bring himself to meet her eyes.

  “So, Harry” she said conversationally, her mouth grimacing slightly as she pronounced his name “how have you been finding Hogwarts? Draco tells me that you have quite a talent for Quidditch.”

  Harry glanced at Malfoy in surprise before staring hungrily down at what looked like a clear broth in front of him and allowed some of the tension to flow out of his shoulders.

  “I enjoy school quite a bit” he responded feeling bold all of a sudden, despite Lucius’ intense gaze focused right on him.

  “My favorite lesson is Defense against the Dark Arts, actually.” He looked up at Narcissa with a curious smirk and was surprised to see her bite back a smile. He picked up one of the spoons at random from among an array spread out across his placemat.

  “Potter considers himself a fair hand at deflecting dark curses” Malfoy said from beside him although Harry could see him shaking his head imperceptibly from the corner of his eye and he carefully put the spoon back down in its place.

  “And what I _actually_ said” Malfoy continued, smirking slightly and dipping his fingers into the steaming bowl in front of him. _Oh_. Harry hastened to copy “was that his mediocre Quidditch performance barely makes up for his abysmal grades.”

  Harry fixed a glare on the other boy although his nerves were too scattered to use his usual ferocity.

  “If I’m only ‘mediocre’ at Quidditch” Harry scowled “then what does that make you?”

  Malfoy glowered back. “Well, some of us actually have to work instead of wasting all our time flying, seeing as we don’t have every bloody member of staff favoring us all the time.”

  “Draco, be polite.” Lucius drawled casually, a warning evident even underlying his detached voice echoing from the head of the table. Draco dropped his gaze to his bowl of water.

  “Sorry.” He muttered, although it was more in his father’s direction than Harry’s.

  “So, you like Defense. That’s interesting.” Narcissa smiled and Harry smoothed his brow, feeling a little more at ease. “Malfoys usually tend to excel more in Potions.” She continued, nodding her head in Draco’s direction “Although I always thought I was a bit of a natural in Arithmancy.”

  Harry nodded self-consciously as the house-elves reappeared, removing the bowls of water and replacing them with a thick, creamy soup. Harry was fleetingly glad that Hermione would never see the work (or what she would have called slave labour) of the house-elves here.

  This time Harry kept Malfoy warily in his peripheral and copied the other boy as he selected his outermost spoon and used it to scoop up a mouthful of soup. Harry faltered for a moment before tasting it himself, speculating poison before it occurred to him that Lucius could have easily killed him already, if he was so inclined. Shaking off the dark thought, he put a spoonful in his mouth. It tasted like onions.

  “You have your OWLs this year if I’m not mistaken, correct boys?” Narcissa commented as she lifted a spoonful of soup to her mouth. “An important year- it’s never too early to start revising, you know.”

  “There are more important things than exams approaching this year.” Lucius interjected harshly and Harry almost choked, nervously studying the man’s impassive frown. Harry had some idea of what the man could be referring to, and blanched at the reminder of the danger that he was currently in.

  Everyone remained silent after Lucius’ interruption and Harry tried to overcome the awkwardness by swallowing spoonfuls of soup as fast as was physically possible without being rude. After what seemed to be an eternity of uncomfortable silence, the house-elves reappeared once again, dispelling the empty soup bowls and placing a plate of roast chicken at the center of the table, followed by dishes heaping with vegetables and potatoes.

  Harry watched Draco pick up a bowl of carrots and spoon a few onto the clean plate a house-elf had placed in front of him, before passing the dish on to his father. Harry fidgeted, his stomach still growling with growing hunger as the carrots were passed to Narcissa, who smiled gently as she finally handed the bowl to him. The rest of the dishes were circulated around the table in this manner and Harry once again carefully watched which pieces of silverware Malfoy chose before quickly picking the same ones up himself.

  As they ate, another prickly silenced arose, not even Narcissa daring to break it this time, although she caught Harry’s eye once and offered him a comforting wink. But Harry didn’t mind the quiet, he was too busy shoving forkfuls of food into his mouth. Well, he thought, at least one thing was looking up- the food was delicious.

  The clattering of silverware against china resounded loudly in the mostly-empty room and everyone was soon clearing the last of the food from their plates. Harry made sure to replicate the fancy way that Malfoy arranged his knife and fork on his empty plate, his stomach finally full and grateful.

  Harry’s eyes widened when a perfectly cut square of what looked like lemon cake was served in front of him. He couldn’t remember the last time Aunt Petunia had cooked a three-course-meal, she’d certainly never offered anything of the sort to _him_. He distantly wondered how the Malfoys stayed so thin.

  As Harry tucked into his dessert, using the tiny fork from the inside row of cutlery, Lucius finally ended the lack of conversation.

  “I want you to come to my study after dinner, Draco.” He said bluntly, not bothering to glance up from the table. Harry saw Draco freeze for an instant before nodding his head.

  “Yes, father.” Was it Harry or had Draco’s voice faltered slightly on his reply?

  As soon as the plates were cleared, Lucius marched off, presumably towards his study with Draco trailing sluggishly after him, fingers twisted tightly behind his back, leaving Harry alone with Narcissa in the dining room. He pushed back his chair and stood awkwardly, unsure what to do now.

  “Don’t mind Lucius” Narcissa said to him, rising from the table herself “He’s too proud for his own good.” Harry gawked at her but she just smiled back placidly.

  “You can go up to your room now, although I think he’ll want to talk to you before bed.” She added before sweeping gracefully from the room. Harry stared after her, dread swallowing up his insides at the prospect of having to talk with Lucius Malfoy one-on-one. He sighed wearily, leaving the dining room and returned to the room Malfoy had showed him to earlier, throwing himself on the bed, burying his head in his arms and wondering how in Merlin’s name he was going to suffer through another day of this.

 

* * *

 

 

  “Potter! Get the fuck _up_ ” Someone hissed in Harry’s ear, jerking him forcefully awake.

  “What?” He groaned, trying to roll back over.

  “My father is what. He wants to speak to you.” A familiar voice drawled in his ear. Previous events flashed through Harry’s mind and he suddenly sat up, his head bumping painfully against something hard.

  “Ow!” Malfoy moaned, rubbing his head “What was that for?”

  “Sorry,” Harry muttered “I have to talk to your father?”

  “Yes.” Malfoy said, eyeing him warily, his hand still clutching his head “Do you remember where his study is?” Harry nodded “Good. Go there and knock on the door. He’ll let you in.”

  Harry picked himself up as Malfoy left the room. The sun had disappeared entirely now, leaving the sky empty but for the purple-tinged night. He must’ve fallen asleep for a few minutes after returning from dinner. He rubbed his eyes half-heartedly and straightened his jacket before striding towards the dark wooden door that marked the entrance to Lucius’ study. He swallowed thickly and rapped quickly on the door before he could change his mind.

  “Come in.” an icy voice called out and Harry steeled himself before twisting the handle and forcing himself inside.

  Lucius Malfoy sat behind a wide desk made of polished stone. His features were not cruel, not exactly but were composed to show not a flicker of emotion. A narrow book case lined the wall behind him.

  He inclined his head as Harry entered: “Sit.”

  Harry sat, mouth drying in trepidation.

  Lucius seemed vaguely pleased at the apprehension plain on Harry’s face.

  “I’m sure you’ve been wondering why I had my son- ahem- invite you here.” He began when Harry had settled in the high-backed chair in front of the desk and Harry nodded guardedly. Lucius was right, of _course_ he wanted to know why he was here. A steady trickle of anger seeped through Harry’s veins, and he hadn’t been invited, he’d been kidnapped! He narrowed his eyes at the man slouching arrogantly in front of him.

  “The truth, Potter, is that we need you” Lucius continued and Harry stared at him, thrown off by the unexpected statement. He was suddenly struck by the man’s choice of words. _We need you. We need him. We need the boy._ Yes! That was it- what he had earlier forgotten about Lucius Malfoy, his dream. Lucius had been the Death Eater that had spoken in Harry’s dream. He stared at the man with horrorstruck eyes. If Voldemort needed a boy and he, Harry, was that boy then were the Malfoys going to hand him over to be killed after all?

  “So you _do_ plan to give me over to Voldemort…” He said aghast, terror evident in his hoarse voice.

  Lucius restrained a flinch at mention of Voldemort’s name but looked at Harry quizzically, lips tugging upwards at the corners.

  “No.” He said brusquely, his tone vaguely amused “I told you this afternoon that this was not the reason for our invitation.”

  Harry breathed relief and barely kept from rolling his eyes at the man’s insistence that Harry was here on _invitation_.

  “Then what possible reason could there be for having your son _abduct_ me and then trapping me here?” Harry demanded indignantly.

  Malfoy eyed him speculatively as if pondering how much he wanted to tell Harry.

  “Narcissa and I have been trying to get in contact with Dumbledore’s Order for a while now.” Harry gaped “But they are very cautious, as you must know, and Dumbledore himself can be impossible to locate when he wants to be.”

  Harry’s mind spun. How in hell did Lucius know about the secret Order that Harry had only just found out about himself? And more importantly, what did he want with those who had openly acknowledged themselves as his sworn enemies? Harry shook his head, disbelieving.

  “Of course they haven’t made themselves available, you’re a Death Eater!” Harry blurted out, momentarily forgetting the gnawing in the pit of his stomach that warned him _be careful_. There wasn’t much he could do to stop the man from harming him here, if he became so inclined.

  Lucius stiffened, his face looking even colder than before, if that was possible, and Harry quickly shut his mouth, fists clenching where they rested on his lap.

  “I’d advise you to keep caution in what you say to me” Lucius said after a beat through clenched teeth. “However, you are correct, which brings me to why I have brought you here.”

  Harry sank a little lower in his chair but he held a defiant look in his eyes. No matter what Lucius planned to do with him, he wouldn’t let the man see his fear.

  “As you witnessed yourself, the Dark Lord rose again last year” Lucius continued, his face carefully blank “However, I find myself in an unfamiliar position in which the Dark Lord calls me to serve him but I find myself unwilling to bow.”

  Harry stared at him incredulously, suspicion gleaming in his eyes. Lucius Malfoy certainly had a way with words. He forced himself to stay calm and spoke through gritted teeth.

  “You didn’t seem to have much trouble with it fifteen years ago.” Harry said quietly, every syllable dripping with unrestrained aversion.

  Lucius glowered back at him but made no comment on Harry’s insolent tone.

  “It seems that world I live in now is preferable unchanged to the one the Dark Lord wishes to mould from bone and blood.” Lucius’ voice was quiet now, less menacing, almost penitent.

  Harry observed him silently, taking in the clenched jaw, the bold indignation veiling a deep hollowness in his eyes and slowly nodded. Lucius relaxed a little in his chair.

  “And fifteen years ago, there were few assurances offered, especially for those of us born into families that naturally opposed the Ministry.”

  “What do you mean?” Harry asked, eyes narrowing again “What assurances do you have now?”

  Lucius was quiet for a beat, Harry couldn’t even hear a trace of breath.

  “I mean” He said, voice strangely neutral and toneless “that we now know that the Dark Lord can indeed be destroyed.”

  “But he’s human” Harry said slowly “it’s always been possible to destroy him.”

  Lucius fixed Harry with a resigned look.

  “I’m not certain that human completely applies any longer.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Lucius snorted “Of course you don’t, which is why it is essential that I speak with Dumbledore.”

  “And what do you expect me to do about that?” Harry asked, his tone much calmer now. Lucius watched him carefully for what felt like several minutes, his cloudy gaze probing at Harry’s mind.

  “I think we’ll discuss that tomorrow. It looks like you need to rest.” He said finally, inclining his head towards the door. Harry rolled his eyes at the obvious dismissal and avoidance of the question but didn’t comment, rising from his chair and leaving the room.

  As soon as he was out of the door, Harry slumped against the wall, thoroughly amazed that he had made it out of the confrontation alive. He hadn’t realized how intense the atmosphere had been inside the study until he had escaped it. He suddenly felt exhausted and stifled a yawn as he made his way back to his room, mind spinning in a dozen different directions. What had changed between now and fifteen years ago, he wondered, and what was that about Voldemort not being human? Harry bit his lip thinking- if anything, he would’ve thought that Voldemort’s return would affirm fears that he could not be killed. But even more astonishingly, Lucius Malfoy wanted out of the Death Eaters? It was preposterous, it was absurd, it was… impossible. Harry frowned.

  He shut his door softly behind him and quickly peeled Malfoy’s suit off and hung it over the foot of his bed instead of leaving it in a crumpled heap where his own clothes lay. He drew the heavy curtains over the enormous window, taking a quick glance at the impressive gardens visible below before sliding into bed. He distantly wondered if Remus and the other members of the Order had come to collect him yet and what they had done when they discovered him missing. Maybe they were looking for him now, though he doubted it would even cross their minds to look for him here. His heart sank. Harry felt his mind grow sticky and slow with fatigue and it wasn’t long before his eyelids flickered closed and the gloom in his heart was swallowed by darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3**

 

  Harry woke to sunlight pricking insistently against his eyelids and grumbled irritably, squeezing his eyes more tightly shut. He pressed his face into his pillow and felt the unfamiliar texture rub against his cheek. He froze as memories started to flick through his head like shadows before leaping out of bed and looking wildly around his room. He relaxed marginally when he found it empty, but his heart still beat a furious tattoo against his chest. The curtains had fallen slightly open, allowing a chink of gentle light to seep across the floor. Harry pulled the curtains fully open, submerging his room with early rays of crimson sunrise and clambered up onto the window seat, his fingers only just reaching the top of the pane. He felt for the latch and slid it across, before climbing down to fling the window wide open. Cold air flooded in, hitting him square in the face. Harry clenched his jaw and suppressed the urge to shiver.

  He stared down at the perfectly kept lawns below, judging that the ground was at least a twenty-foot drop. He would be fine with a cushioning charm. He slid off the window seat and quickly threw on his rumpled clothes from yesterday afternoon and slid his wand out of his jacket pocket before stepping back up to the window. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _I’ll be fine_ he told himself forcefully before stepping forwards off the ledge and into the air, pointing his wand towards the ground. But nothing happened.

  He looked downwards and was struck by a wave of dizziness as he realized that there was nothing beneath his feet. He was standing straight in midair. His brow creased and he reached a hand forwards to find it clunk against a similar invisible wall to the one that trapped him in the house yesterday. Harry sighed and stamped a foot, hearing the same dull thud vibrate up his leg. Looked like he was stuck here another day.

  He retreated mournfully from the window, slumped on his bed and wondered abstractedly if his friends were looking for him, regretting not sending him a single letter. Despite his disheartened attitude, Harry was feeling better after a long night’s sleep- unafraid and primed to deal with anything the Malfoy’s threw at him. It didn’t hurt that Lucius had reiterated that he wasn’t planning on offering Harry up to Voldemort last night, although -Harry frowned- he couldn’t really take anything that man said for granted. His morals were clearly still questionable, no matter what he had told Harry. He had had him kidnapped only yesterday after all.

  A rapping at the door tore Harry out of his own thoughts and he looked up as Malfoy burst into the room without waiting for an invitation.

  “Oh. You’re up.” He said looking faintly disappointed. Harry glared, he’d probably been planning on playing some nasty trick on Harry in his sleep.

  “Yep. Why?” Harry asked shortly, not wanting his respectively good (all things considered) mood ruined by Malfoy’s usual snarky comments.

  “Come with me.” Malfoy responded, not bothering to acknowledge Harry’s question.

  “Do I have to?” Harry whined “I’d much rather stay in here all day.”

  Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Harry. “Yes, you have to.” He said bluntly “Mother says you might as well make yourself useful while you’re here.” He flashed Harry a sarcastic smile before walking off. “And _try_ to keep up.”

  Harry rolled his eyes but scrambled after him.

 

  A few minutes later they had arrived back in the manor’s foyer and Malfoy was opening the front door. Harry stopped in his tracks and the other boy glanced briefly over his shoulder when he realized that Harry wasn’t following him.

  “Come on!” He called impatiently and Harry stepped forward carefully, surprised when there was no glass wall stopping his escape. He raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t get any ideas.” Malfoy warned as they crossed a gigantic courtyard at the front of the house. “You won’t be able to leave the grounds.” He eyed Harry with an evil smirk “Not in one piece, anyway.”

  Harry decided not to think too hard about what that might mean as he and Malfoy turned at the side of the house and made their way along a gravel path that twisted through the picturesque gardens.

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Harry asked tetchily, slightly unnerved by Malfoy’s veiled threat and Malfoy looked over at him, smirking.

  “You’ll see soon enough.”

  They followed the path for what seemed like a long way, passing dark bushes studded with jewel-toned blossoms and elegantly hewn statues of witches and wizards, made from dull rock and spouting clear water from various parts of their anatomy. The path eventually came to a halt at a row of tall hedges, blocking their path and reminding Harry uncomfortably of the Triwizard maze from last year. Malfoy didn’t falter, stepping assuredly off the path and following along the line of shrubberies. Harry trailed behind him wearily, eyes fixed on the flawlessly mown lawn. When he looked up, Malfoy had abruptly disappeared from sight, vanishing between the spiky branches. Harry slowed to a halt and peered among the leaves, discerning a narrow gap, just wide enough to act as a passageway through the hedge. He could see Malfoy waiting impatiently on the other side. He walked through cautiously, avoiding the sharpest twigs although they tore at his clothes.

  Harry looked around as he emerged on the other side- trees were looming high above him, stretching as far as the eye could see and blocking out all but the most persistent rays of sunlight.

  “Almost there.” Malfoy muttered and they set off through the trees, feet dragging on the rough, earthy ground, littered with bulky rocks.

  After a few more minutes of walking, they surfaced from the dense forest into a large clearing and Malfoy finally came to a stop. Harry could once again see the sun steadily climbing higher in the sky and the dirt floor was smoother beneath his feet. He could see a mound of stones taller than he was at the right edge of the clearing and could hear the melodious chirping of birds in the distance.

  “Why are we here?” Harry asked curiously.

  Malfoy gestured to the rocky mound at the edge of the clearing and Harry took a closer look realizing that the pile of rocks actually curved off deeper into the forest, out of sight and was not, in fact, a mound but a deliberately placed structure.

  “Werewolves and other creatures inhabit this forest” Malfoy said, indicating towards the unfinished construction “Mother wanted me to build a wall to keep them out of the gardens.”

  Harry swallowed uneasily at allusion to werewolves but now that Malfoy mentioned it, he could definitely see a wall, or at the very least a rough barrier, in the straight line of rock. He nodded slowly before swiftly narrowing his eyes.

  “Wait” Harry said, “You built all of that _yourself_?”

  Malfoy looked at him disdainfully “Of course I did” He smirked. “Amazing what those of us actually adept at magic can achieve, isn’t it?” –Harry scowled- “And now you get to help me.”

  Harry grimaced but set to work, welcoming any task that could distract him from his jumbled thoughts. He bent down to pick an armful of large stones up from the ground before he noticed Malfoy watching him scornfully.

  “Are you pretending or are you actually that stupid?” Malfoy scoffed “It’s going to take forever if you do it like that.”

  He rolled his eyes and drew out his wand. He gave it a flick while mumbling a _levicorpus_ , making a heavy-looking rock soar through the air towards the wall. Harry’s eyes widened.

  “You’ll get in trouble with the Ministry!” He hissed, glancing around but Malfoy just snorted derisively.

  “Of course, I won’t. We have concealment wards here.” He eyed Harry with contempt. “You think we want the authorities spying on us all the time?”

  Harry inclined his head thoughtfully. He supposed it made sense for a Death Eater (or ex-Death Eater as the case appeared to be) to hide their illegal activities from the Ministry. He levitated a chunk of stone himself, enjoying the feeling as magic rushed through him from toe to fingertip after being left so long in disuse.

  After a few minutes, he felt the back of his neck prickle and turned to see Malfoy watching him wide-eyed.

  “What?” he demanded self-consciously but Malfoy just sneered, shook his head and returned to his work.

  Building the wall was surprisingly draining once the novelty wore off, Harry realized after a while, and he scuffed his shoe against the ground moodily and kicked a flurry of pebbles into the air, once again regretting his previous choices that had led him here.

  “Feeling sorry for yourself, are you, Potter?” Malfoy sneered in his direction, allowing a small boulder to fall into place. Harry glowered at him for a beat before smoothing his brow and waving his wand at a bunch of stones, making them glide into the air

  “Don’t you?” He shrugged.

  “You think I feel _sorry_ for you?” Malfoy snorted.

  “Well yeah, _somewhere_ in your puny, black, Slytherin heart you _must_ feel sorry about kidnapping me.” Harry said sardonically.

  Malfoy eyed him cynically but his mouth tugged upwards at the corners. “Only the weak deserve pity.” he jeered “Although you did seem rather excited at the prospect of being trampled by your cousin and I’m sure your aunt and uncle are just _charming_.”

  Harry scowled at him “I was taking care of it!” He exclaimed defensively.

  Malfoy eyed him with contempt. “Mm-hm.”

 “And anyway, I was supposed to go and stay with my friends last night, you git!”

  Malfoy rolled his eyes “Fine. I am _so_ sorry for abducting you from your puny village and bringing you here, to one of the grandest estates in Britain.” He smirked. “Happy?”

  Harry shook his head dubiously. As apologies went it was pretty terrible, but this was also the first time Malfoy had spoken a civil word to him in four years, let alone offered an _apology_ , sarcastic or otherwise. Things just kept getting weirder.

  They both continued building the wall straight across the clearing in a slightly less uncomfortable quiet. It was only after half an hour had passed and Malfoy had rushed off, calling over his shoulder that he would be back soon that Harry realized that the other boy had inadvertently _complimented_ him. He grinned in disbelief as he played their earlier conversation back in his head ‘ _only the weak deserve pity’_. Harry laughed aloud- it was interesting to think that Malfoy didn’t consider him weak, no matter what he had said yesterday about his _mediocre_ Quidditch performance. Harry continued levitating rocks with new enthusiasm, his heart feeling a little lighter until he heard loud crunching sounds approaching him through the undergrowth and low voices grumbling things he couldn’t pick out. He dropped the stones he had been levitating back to the ground and spun around to face the noises, muscles clenching, tension spreading through his body.

  He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Malfoy emerge from the trees, followed by Crabbe and Goyle. He froze, shocked at himself- he was _relieved_ to see Malfoy? That was something he’d never thought would happen. He cocked an eyebrow as they approached and sighed resignedly when Malfoy told him they were heading back to the manor for lunch. As if one arrogant bastard wasn’t enough to deal with, now he had to stick around with his minions too.

  Lunch was a casual affair, compared to last night’s dinner anyway. The four of them sat around a smaller table in the gardens with a platter of fancy little sandwiches, Harry’s chair pulled a little apart from the rest.

  He was content to find that Crabbe and Goyle didn’t seem largely affected by his presence and mostly ignored him. They chattered to Malfoy about Hogwarts, mentioning so many Slytherin first names, that Harry couldn’t follow the conversation anyway.

  Crabbe and Goyle both burst into heaving chortles when Malfoy told some kind of complicated, inside joke. Probably something cruel and twisted, Harry thought darkly.

  “I’m going to try and get an Acceptable in charms this year.” Crabbe said nervously, after they had finished laughing.

  Malfoy snorted “You’re going to have to stop spending all lesson irritating Boot then” he said, before closely examining the other boy’s hopeful features. “I’m sure you can though.” he added reassuringly.

  Harry stared at Malfoy incredulously.

  Just then a house-elf apparated beside Harry, wringing his hands “Would sir like some more sandwiches?” he asked in a shrill voice. Harry shook his head, still in shock at the encouraging tone that Malfoy had used to speak to Crabbe. Goyle asked for more food and the house-elf nodded, picking up a discarded newspaper near Malfoy’s feet where someone had presumably dropped it after reading, and disapparating briefly before returning with another heaping plate of sandwiches. Harry zoned out of the conversation again after that and beckoned the house-elf over.

  “What’s your name?” Harry asked softly as the small elf approached him.

  “Kolby, sir.” The elf replied and Harry smiled at him.

  “Are copies of The Prophet kept anywhere after they’ve been read?”

  The elf looked at him curiously “Yessir, Master Lucius keeps them _all_ in the third cupboard on the left wall in the-”

  “That’s great thanks, Kolby” Harry said, quickly cutting the elf off “Do you think I could take a look at the one from” -he paused searchingly for a moment- “er, the one from five weeks ago?” He shot Kolby the cheesiest grin he could muster.

  Kolby looked down at his twisting fingers and nodded vigorously “Kolby can fetch it sir. Kolby can fetch it now, sir.” The elf turned as if to disapparate.

  “Wait!” Harry said hastily, eyeing Crabbe and Goyle across the table. Kolby rotated big, luminous eyes back on Harry.

  “Could you bring it to me tonight? After dinner?” He asked, wary of the others, still paying him no attention. Kolby blinked once and nodded before disapparating and Harry sighed in relief, preparing himself for listening to more boring conversation as Crabbe and Goyle tucked into a second helping.

 

mmmmm

 

  After another hour of hovering in the background as Malfoy entertained Crabbe and Goyle, Harry found himself standing wearily behind Malfoy as he waved them off up his endless-looking drive. Harry stiffened as they finally disappeared out of sight and Malfoy swung around to look at him.

  “What?” Harry demanded half-heartedly.

  Malfoy beamed at him inexplicably and Harry’s stomach gave an unexpected lurch. “Let’s go.”

  Harry groaned as he found himself dragging his feet after Malfoy without explanation yet again. He didn’t bother to ask where they were headed this time- he knew better than to expect an answer.

  Malfoy led him around the back of the house, where unexpectedly unkempt grass stretched out wildly beyond the orderly gardens, a sharp contrast to the neatly-kept lawns.

  “In here” He said as he drew up beside a surprisingly shabby-looking shed. Harry grumbled under his breath but just pushed open the door and walked inside warily while Malfoy followed behind.

  “Take your pick” The blond boy grinned, clicking on a light, revealing that the shed was filled with broomsticks of all shapes and styles. Harry stared around, mesmerized. Malfoy snatched up what looked like a Nimbus Two-thousand, snapping Harry out of his trance and he followed suit, seeing that there were no Firebolts lying around.

  “Why do you have so many brooms?” Harry asked in wonderment, Malfoy grinning proudly back.

  “Because I’m _rich_ , Potter or hadn’t you noticed?”

  Harry smirked. “You don’t have a Firebolt though.”

  Malfoy narrowed his eyes but didn’t reply, stalking back out of the shed. Harry glanced around the interior one last time appreciatively before rushing after him.

  Catching up, Harry realized that Malfoy was holding a small wooden box in one hand.

  “What’s that?” He questioned, nodding at it. Malfoy opened his mouth to reply but Harry just shook his head quickly.

  “Let me guess, I’ll find out soon enough?”

  Malfoy smirked affirmatively at him in response and Harry rolled his eyes. They had started walking up the field but Malfoy soon jumped on his Nimbus and shot off ahead. Harry laughed competitively before hopping on his own broom and speeding after him.

  As Harry quickly caught up, Malfoy opened the wooden box, releasing a flash of gold. He turned towards Harry as they raced side-by-side through the air.

  “Best of three?” He called out above the wind tearing through their ears. Harry grinned and didn’t bother to reply before hurtling after the snitch.

  Harry rose higher in the air and surveyed his surroundings, letting the familiar rush of exhilaration drown out the fear and anger that had haunted him the past few days, concentrating entirely on the feeling of flying. The wind picked up, ripping through his hair and slashing against his face and his heart pounded in his ears. The air was wonderfully clear and his chest heaved, full of it. For the first time in a long while, he felt truly and utterly alive.

  He made a few turns in the air, delighting in the weightlessness of it, performing a perfect corkscrew. He sighed in satisfaction before looking around and focusing on the task at hand. He glanced down searchingly and saw Malfoy curving through the air below him, a glimmer of gold glinting against the green below. Harry jerked into motion, twisting his broomstick in a heart-stopping dive towards the snitch. He drew level with Malfoy as they each reached out a hand, fingers edging closer and closer towards the snitch. Harry’s face was numb from exertion and his teeth were gritted in cold determination. He blinked and in the split second that his eyes closed, the snitch disappeared. He heard Malfoy groan beside him and smiled in pure delight, gripping the front of his broom tightly and forcing it upwards, swinging smoothly upside down in a joyous loop, just because he could.

  Harry soared higher and higher until he could glimpse Malfoy Manor sprawled in the distance and it felt like he could see for miles. Fierce pleasure coursed through him, his veins running on adrenaline alone. He watched Malfoy circling lazily below him for a minute before glancing around again and spotting the snitch zooming a few feet away, reflecting light of the sun starting to dip lower in the sky. Harry clenched his jaw and put on a burst of speed, feeling Malfoy’s gaze immediately flick onto him. He smiled grimly as he neared the snitch and stretched his fingers out as far as he could. _Just a little closer_ he squinted his eyes, every muscle straining towards the fluttering ball and his fingers finally closed around it. He whooped in satisfaction and raised his fist triumphantly, the cold metal biting into his palm. Malfoy slowed below him, and Harry grinned teasingly down.

  “How’s that for mediocre?’ He hollered over the wind and Malfoy retorted by elegantly flipping him off, although he looked like he was biting back a smile.

  “Again?” Harry yelled and Malfoy nodded enthusiastically back. He opened his hand, the snitch hovering above his palm for an instant and Harry was suddenly struck by the beauty of the light glinting off of its metallic hue, before it darted away again, lost to the breeze.

  Harry dropped down alongside Malfoy for a moment, looping around him before flashing him a crooked grin and flying off, leaving Malfoy shaking his head but laughing after him.

  Glancing around, Harry couldn’t locate the snitch so he flew up and down the field to search for it. Not seeing the tell-tale glimmer of gold, he soared upwards to the clouds, letting the moisture soak his hair and cool his burning face. Hearing a yell of elation, he swooped back down, starting to race when he saw Malfoy, hand extended, inches from the snitch. Harry gripped his broom and barreled towards him, flattening himself against the broom. He tried to slow when he saw Malfoy’s fingers closing around the golden ball but suddenly lost balance, hurtling forwards and straight into the other boy. They tumbled downwards together, the snitch lost somewhere among their tangle of limbs. Harry just managed to utter the incantation for a cushioning charm before they crashed onto the ground. Harry raised his head dizzily as the world slowly righted itself. He had landed awkwardly on his hands and knees and he looked down, mortified to find Malfoy under him, grey eyes inches from his own.

  Suddenly Malfoy started gagging, choking noises resonating from the back of his throat and Harry tried to scramble up, but his legs were hopelessly tangled up with Malfoy’s. Concern welled up in the pit of his stomach but just as he was thinking he should probably get ready to perform the Heimlich maneuver, Malfoy spluttered and spat something out into his hand. He looked at Harry, eyes wide with amazement and slowly uncurled his fingers to reveal the snitch, slimy from being wedged in the back of his throat. They stared at each other for a beat before they both burst out in disbelieving laughter at the bizarre symmetry of it all, Harry’s head collapsing onto Malfoy’s chest. He could feel the steady beat of Malfoy’s heart against his forehead and felt strange all of a sudden. He quickly brushed the feeling off. Eventually Harry’s heart rate slowed and his shoulders stopped shaking with mirth. He lifted his head and returned Malfoy’s ridiculous smile, meeting his stormy eyes and finding himself unable to look away.

  “Potter.” Malfoy croaked

  “Hmm?” Harry hummed distractedly

  “You’re on top of me.” Harry snapped out of his daze and quickly stumbled up, holding out a hand to help Malfoy (he had just swallowed a hunk of metal after all). Malfoy gingerly bent to pick up his broom from where it had been almost crushed beneath their combined weight and Harry summoned his own from a few feet away with a quick wave of his wand. Malfoy stared at him for a moment before shaking his head and they started making their way slowly back to the manor. After a few paces, Harry realized that the other boy was limping.

  “Are you okay?” He asked, brow creasing

  Malfoy smirked back “Never better.” He said, ignoring Harry’s worried glance at his leg “I did just beat you to the snitch after all.”

  Harry muttered obscenities under his breath before giving Malfoy a sarcastic smile “Well, there’s a first time for everything.” He said smugly.

  Malfoy scowled at him but without real anger and they kept walking.

 

  It wasn’t long before they reached the manor and staggered, red-faced, inside. They passed Narcissa on their way to the stairs and she smiled at them as they passed.

  “Come down for dinner in half an hour, boys!” She called after them.

  As soon as they reached the top of the stairs, Malfoy gasped and stumbled against the wall. Harry looked at him worriedly and grabbed his arm to help him to his room.

  “I can do it.” Malfoy muttered but his voice faltered so Harry heaved Malfoy’s arm around his neck.

  “It’s fine, just lean on me.” He said as they quickly arrived at Malfoy’s door.

  Harry kicked it open and hauled Malfoy inside, depositing him on his bed.

  “Is it your leg?” Harry asked, recalling how he had been limping on the way back to the house but Malfoy shook his head, pointing at his side.

  “I think I broke a rib.” He wheezed and Harry’s eyebrows shot up, startled.

  “Do you want me to get your mum?” He asked, moving towards the door.

  Malfoy shook his head again “Don’t.” He said, something like fear colouring his voice. “She’ll just tell Father.”

  Harry studied the other boy’s face for a second but didn’t comment on the sudden desperation in his eyes.

  “What do you want me to do then?” He asked.

  Malfoy took a breath “Can you just try an _episkey_ on me?” At the dubious look in Harry’s eyes he quickly added “I know it’s a long shot, with your magical skill level but… please?”

  Harry was unnerved at the unfamiliar earnest tone in Malfoy’s voice but relaxed a little at the insult. _That_ he was accustomed to.

  “I guess I can try.” Harry said hesitantly “But-”

  “Thanks.” Malfoy cut in before he could change his mind. “Could you just draw the curtains?” Harry shrugged and did as Malfoy asked, slightly aghast when he turned back around and Malfoy was pulling off his shirt.

  “It’s my rib.” Malfoy explained apologetically and Harry nodded, rolling his eyes.

  Harry stifled a gasp at the purple mark already blooming along the side of Malfoy’s ribcage and approached to take a better look, removing his wand from his jacket pocket. He traced a finger along the bruising, feeling Malfoy shiver against his touch. Harry’s eyes darkened when he saw that the other boy’s fair skin was marred by numerous other marks, most faded to pale, silvery scars although a dark cut slashed across his collarbone, recent and jagged. Harry frowned but ignored them and curled his fingers back, levelling his wand at the darkest point of the injury, where Malfoy’s rib looked slightly dented.

  “Ready?” He asked softly and Malfoy nodded, screwing his eyes shut.

  “ _Episkey!”_ Harry said, voice clear and heard Malfoy inhale sharply as the bone cracked into place before relaxing his shoulders.

  “You could’ve been more gentle” –Harry rolled his eyes- “But…thanks.” Malfoy exhaled and Harry met his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief himself. They stared at each other, moments stretching into an infinity. Harry found himself unable to look away once again. His gaze caressed the smooth curve of Malfoy’s cheekbone, the sharp slope of his nose and his pale hair, stained white against the dark of the room. Luminous, silver eyes bore into his own, swirling like liquid steel. Harry swallowed.

  “I should, er get ready for dinner.” He mumbled, forcing himself to back away. Malfoy nodded wordlessly and didn’t move until Harry had left the room. Harry breathed deeply once he was back in the hallway, lungs suddenly screaming for oxygen. He banged his head softly against the wall before continuing back to his room and pulling on the same grey suit that Malfoy had lent him yesterday.

  Sighing, he sat down on the window seat and gazed out across the horizon. The sun was slowly disappearing, bleeding the last of its dying, crimson light into the sky. Harry was soon lost in the red-streaked apparition of the fading rays, finding his brain drained and empty. He allowed himself a few minutes of sagging against the window before he shook himself up and went over to the door.

  Malfoy was already waiting when he cracked it open and they both dithered there a moment, unable to look each other in the eye before they wordlessly made their way down for dinner.

  The sight of Lucius once again sitting straight-backed and unsmiling at the head of the table unnerved Harry more than he had expected, breaking through the buoyant mood he’d been in since flying.

  Dinner passed much more easily for Harry this time around, especially now that he knew what to expect. Narcissa periodically interrupted the usual silence with casual small talk and Harry answered her questions again, if a little wearily.

  As the main course was being lain on the table, Lucius suddenly broke the silence he’d been keeping for the whole meal.

  “Draco,” He began, eyes indifferent as his son stiffened in his chair “I heard that you spent the day out playing Quidditch.”

  Malfoy stared accusingly at his mother who said nothing although her eyes hardened imperceptibly.

  “Only the afternoon, Father.” Draco responded under his father’s harsh scrutiny, eyes glued to the table surface. “We spent the morning building-”

  “I can think of better things for you to do with your time.” Lucius interjected, tone frigid and Malfoy seemed to shrink into himself under his father’s critical glare.

  “Yes Father.” He said quietly.

  Silence reigned for a long minute.

  “I am going to be leaving on business for a few days.” Lucius said eventually. “Come and see me in my study after dinner, Draco.”

  Harry shifted uncomfortably, wondering if this meant he could leave soon too but he didn’t comment, reminding himself to ask when Lucius undoubtedly summoned him later that evening. The rest of the meal passed uneasily and this time Harry didn’t wait to escape to his room as soon as it had finished after Malfoy had followed his father upstairs, gloom evident in the hunch of his shoulders.

  A few minutes after he had shut his door, Harry heard a soft knocking on the wood and quickly opened it, surprised that Malfoy had finished so quickly with his father but when he looked out into the hallway, the column of air outside the door was empty.

  “Sir?” A squeaky voice said. Harry looked down and saw Kolby standing there, a newspaper clutched in his hands.

  “Kolby!” Harry beamed. He had completely forgotten his request for the paper after the Quidditch game and Malfoy’s injury. “Thank you so much.”

  “Harry Potter is most welcome sir.” The elf squeaked, handing Harry the newspaper and bowing slightly before twisting in the air and disapparating.

  Unfolding the newspaper, Harry slid down against the door frame, recognizing it as the one he had seen on Rita Skeeter’s wall next to his Triwizard interview but the smug smirk that he had guessed the correct date abruptly slid off his face when he read the title. “ **Harry Potter: The Boy who Lies?** ” was written in big lettering across the top while below it a sour faced Cornelius Fudge blinked up at Harry from the paper with the heading “The Minister speaks out against outlandish claims of You-know-who’s return.” Harry stared at the page for a long time before flicking viciously through the paper to find Fudge’s interview, words jumping out at him from the pages.

  _‘Child fame has left Potter addicted…Ministry suspects ridiculous accusation is a plea for attention...Headmaster too lenient of behavior…Dumbledore as crazy as Potter himself…Could duo be plotting against the Ministry?’_

  Harry crumpled the paper in his hands disgustedly and threw it to the ground. Of one thing, he was now more certain than ever: he _had_ to speak to Dumbledore.

  Footsteps suddenly reverberated through the floor and Harry craned his neck to see Malfoy making his way up the corridor, a slight wince on his face. Harry leapt up.

  “Does he want to see me now?” Harry asked eagerly, more desperate than ever to get away from this place. Malfoy shook his head and motioned towards Harry’s room. Harry picked up The Prophet and retreated back into his room, Malfoy close on his heels.

  “When does he want to talk to me?” Harry asked when Malfoy had closed the door behind him.

  Malfoy looked at him dispassionately. “He doesn’t.”

  Harry stared back, uncomprehending. “What?”

  “He doesn’t want to speak to you tonight.”

  “But…” Harry trailed off before he was seized with a sudden surge of anger “But he’s going away!”

  “I know.” Malfoy said plainly.

  “So he’s going to let me go?” Harry asked. Malfoy shook his head.

  “What the _fuck_!”

  Malfoy said nothing as Harry started pacing back and forth.

  “Seriously, what the fuck, Malfoy! There’s, what, less than two weeks left of the holiday and he’s just _leaving me here?_ ”

  “Looks like it.” Malfoy shrugged, feigning disinterest although the unease in his eyes as he tracked Harry’s steps gave him away.

  “What am I supposed to do while he’s gone then?” Harry snarled “I don’t even know why I’m here.” He paused, tugging at his hair in frustration “There are people I’m supposed to see, things I need to figure out.”

  Malfoy stayed quiet and Harry slowly glowered at him.

  “How long are you planning on keeping me prisoner?” He growled, stalking closer and shoving the other boy against the wall. Malfoy’s eyes darkened and he shoved Harry back.

  “If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t get a lot of input around here.” Malfoy spat and Harry snapped out of his sudden rage.

  “You’re right.” He said, thinking of the scars disfiguring Malfoy’s chest and quickly backed away, palms up “It’s not your fault.” He pictured Lucius’ cold features and his eyes darkened. What the _hell_ was he supposed to do now?

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4**

 

 “Do you even know why I’m here?” Harry asked Malfoy, voice a little calmer.

 “Not really.” Malfoy shrugged “I just assumed it was to blackmail Dumbledore or something.”

 Harry frowned, thinking. He hadn’t considered that possibility but it sounded surprisingly plausible.

 “So I’m supposed to just stay here all day and behave like a good little prisoner?” Harry spat, his anger building up again.

 Malfoy raised his hands placatingly “Look, I have nothing to do with this.” Harry shot him a look and Malfoy sighed.

 “Ok, so I did kidnap you but it wasn’t my idea! Father just gave me the portkey and told me to bring you here.”

 Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Why was I so fucking stupid?” He groaned aloud. “Why did I have to bring that damn invisibility cloak?”

 Malfoy’s eyes widened.

 “You have an invisibility cloak?” He inquired, disbelievingly.

 Harry smiled faintly and nodded, mind still searching for means of escape and rescue but coming up empty.

 “You have it here?” Malfoy asked, eyes starting to dance hungrily. “I won’t tell father. I swear.” He added quickly at Harry’s skeptical look.

 “Fine.” Harry sighed and bent down to retrieve it from under his bed. Malfoy’s eyebrows rose dramatically when Harry tugged the slippery fabric out.

 “Woah…” He murmured and reached out to finger the silky material. He glanced up at Harry’s closed look.

 “Don’t let father find out about this.” He said seriously “Trust me on that. He’ll want to keep it for sure.”

 Harry nodded distractedly, discontent still emanating from every line of his body. He let Malfoy examine the cloak while he sank down onto his bed and exhaled miserably.

 “It won’t be _that_ bad.” Malfoy said, eyeing him slightly disdainfully “Father will definitely release you before school.” Harry brightened a little at that although his features were still tense at the prospect of the long days stretching ahead at Malfoy manor.

 “And look on the bright side” Malfoy continued “he’s leaving so we can play Quidditch again, and you haven’t seen even half of the rooms here.”

 Harry nodded at him slowly, distantly stunned and grateful at how nice Malfoy was suddenly being to him, if contemptuous. _Probably feels sorry for me_ Harry thought bitterly but there was no pity in the other boy’s dark eyes. _Only the weak deserve pity_ , Harry remembered him saying and sat a little straighter.

 “Thanks” Harry muttered after clearing his throat. Malfoy nodded and handed him back his cloak.

 “See you tomorrow then.” He said and left the room.

 Harry didn’t bother changing before curling up and drifting into a fitful sleep.

 

 The next morning, Lucius had departed and the day passed in much the same way as the previous one had- Malfoy collected him in the morning to work on the wall and they flew in the afternoon, although dinner was a lot less formal and more relaxed without Lucius’ domineering presence. The day after that, Malfoy gave him a tour of the manor and Harry had stared at the huge, unrestricted library with wide-eyes, knowing that he was in Hermione’s dreamland. Now that Harry had accepted that he was stuck here and realized that he might as well make the most of it, he found himself actually start to enjoy Malfoy’s company- his remarks were often disparaging and sarcastic but he was also funny and interesting not to mention the satisfaction they shared for Quidditch. They hadn’t tried to play the snitch game again, after last time, but most afternoons they raced up and down the fields on broomsticks, each performing more daring tricks, trying to outdo one another as day slowly faded into shadowy dusk. Days gradually slipped into a week and Harry tried the best he could to keep his lingering rage about the article and anxiety of when Lucius would return from his mind.

 “Try this!” Harry called out one day before he pulled out of a perilous dive at the last second, millimeters from crashing into the ground. Malfoy laughed aloud and copied the move effortlessly, the speed tugging his hair in a dozen different directions. Sometimes Harry loved to just watch Malfoy fly- he wasn’t quite as audacious in his technique as Harry was, but every move was seamless and easy and unquestionably elegant. Harry smiled as Malfoy spun through the air, sounds of elation drawn from his throat by the wind. The sky was starting to darken and the moon was visible through drifting clouds, precisely the unlit colour of Malfoy’s eyes when Harry challenged him to a race. Malfoy swept towards the ground and gracefully slid down from his broom and Harry followed suit, if a little more clumsily.

 “You must get a lot of practice.” Harry said wistfully. Every time he and Malfoy took to the skies, something thrilling unfurled inside Harry and he knew that he would sorely miss this next summer, when he was undoubtedly confined to Privet Drive again and forbidden from practicing magic of any kind.

 “Jealous of my natural skill?” Malfoy teased “But I suppose so” He went on breathlessly as they started the long walk back to the house- there had been an unspoken agreement ever since that first afternoon that when they returned they walked and talked instead of flying, even though Harry wasn’t exactly sure when or why the arrangement had been decided.

 “But probably not as much as you might think.” Malfoy continued “It’s not like I have many people to practice with.”

 “Not Crabbe or Goyle?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow and Malfoy shook his head.

 “They don’t make for particularly fast racers” He said with a wry grin “although they’re good enough beaters.”

 Harry nodded thoughtfully, concealing his internal sniggers at the image of Goyle’s huge body hovering above the ground.

 “None of your other friends like to play?” Harry asked cautiously, suddenly wondering if Malfoy _had_ any other friends.

 Malfoy laughed as if knowing where Harry’s train of thought had headed.

 “Pansy and Millicent aren’t particularly enthusiastic.” He said ruefully “Blaise is alright but he spends most of the summer in Italy with his mother.”

 Neither spoke for a moment, though the air was heavy with their breathing, still ragged from exertion.

 “It’s better with you, though.” Malfoy said finally, voice low. Harry stared at him but Malfoy’s gaze was fixed firmly on the manor, rising up above them. “I mean, you take more risks, like with your damn corkscrews. They make me dizzy just watching.” He glanced at Harry, lips quirking. “Must be a Gryffindor thing.”

 Harry grinned back. “Your technique is better though- I guess elegance is a Slytherin thing.” He broke off frowning, Crabbe and Goyle’s lumbering physiques coming to mind “Or maybe it’s just you.”

 They grinned at each other for a moment before quickly breaking eye contact and continuing on towards the house in a comfortable silence. Harry felt warm inside all of sudden and shook his head internally. Praising Malfoy’s flying? He must be going crazy. He stared at his feet and tried not to think about what Ron and Hermione would say about it.

 

 Although days at the manor sped by quickly, the nights were a different matter entirely. At first, Harry had been left exhausted by days of disquiet and dread, but now that Lucius Malfoy had left, he often spent hours lying awake, trying to piece his conflicting emotions together. He’d always visualized the world in black and white, clear-cut and definite like night and day or old newspapers- Voldemort was evil and Dumbledore was good. The Weasleys were light and the Malfoys were dark. But now it seemed as if his vision had shifted and things no longer looked so simple- shades of grey were all around him, like in Fudge’s deceitful article that calmed the masses and reflected in the depths of Draco’s eyes until Harry could no longer call him an enemy. Because he _was_ Draco, not Malfoy and he wasn’t a villain, just a boy and Harry wasn’t sure what was going to happen when he finally returned to Hogwarts, but he knew that he couldn’t revert back to his old way of thinking. Not when Draco’s smile transformed his face into something else entirely, not when he spoke to Harry so earnestly, like he actually _wanted_ to.

 Time kept drifting by and Lucius still didn’t return, which Harry was fine with. If he couldn’t leave, at least things were going okay (better than okay) now that Lucius wasn’t around. One day at dinner Narcissa asked Harry if there was anything he needed before school started. He had looked at her, wordless for a minute, startled to realize that they should be returning to Hogwarts the next day.

 “No, I already went to Diagon.” he said, shooting Draco an accusing look when he remembered that that was how he had been tracked down in the first place. He focused his attention back on Narcissa.

 “But all my stuff is at Privet Drive” He said, “Will you let me go back and get it?”

 “Harry, you’re not a prisoner here, you’re a guest.” Narcissa responded, eyeing Harry amusedly. “And the house-elves will fetch it for you.”

 Harry forced a smile in return, internally wondering why, if he was a so-called _guest_ , he was confined here by invisible walls.

 

 Harry could barely sleep that evening and spent the entire night tossing and turning fitfully. He had spent so much time longing to see Ron and Hermione and everyone else that he hadn’t stopped to think about what he was going to tell them and now anxiety was raising goosebumps along his skin every time he tried to figure out what to say. Never mind the fact that staying here had been a complete waste of time, from a logical perspective at least, seeing as Lucius hadn’t even ended up telling him why he had been kidnapped in the first place! Eventually giving up his futile attempt at sleep, Harry got up and sat on his window seat, realizing with a jolt of surprise that he was actually going to miss it here. The magnificent views, the extravagant surroundings, the airborne afternoons, and most surprisingly of all- spending time with Draco. Harry wasn’t as stupid as some people seemed to think; he knew that he and Draco could never keep up their tentative friendship at Hogwarts, there were too many obstacles. House rivalry for one, and the slight issue that they were technically supposed to hate each other. Harry closed his eyes and leant his head against the cool glass, letting the frosty air of outside bleed into his head and numb his thoughts.

 Suddenly he heard a sharp _crack_ echo outside his door, the noise was growing increasingly familiar to him. He glanced down at his watch- it was 3:00 in the morning. He strained his ears, hearing his door being pushed softly open and turned to see a familiar blond head peering in. Harry rose to his feet.

 “Can’t sleep?” Draco said, smiling sheepishly when Harry shook his head. “Me neither.”

 Harry walked over to his bed and sat down, hugging his knees to his chest. “There’s so much to think about. I can’t stop the thoughts running through my head.”

 Malfoy was silent, waiting for Harry to continue.

“I don’t know what I’m going to say to…anyone.” He said quietly “and they won’t understand how we’re- how we’re-” He sighed, he didn’t know what he and Malfoy were himself, except that they were no longer enemies.

 “Friends?” Draco finished for him, sitting down next to him and leaning against the headboard, long legs stretched out in front of him.        

 Harry smiled faintly but didn’t take his gaze off his knees. “I’m not sure I understand it myself.”

 They were both silent for a lingering moment.

 “You don’t need to.” Malfoy said eventually, voice strung with heavy notes of finality. “It will be over soon.”

 Harry nodded soundlessly, somehow more saddened by Draco’s words than when he had reached the same conclusion himself- their fleeting friendship would only ever be just that. Fleeting.

 Malfoy waved a hand at the door and Harry heard a soft click as it swung shut, cutting off all the light. He slowly uncurled his legs and laid his head on his pillow.

 “Goodnight, Harry.” He heard Draco say and he shivered despite the echoes of farewell colouring his voice.

 “Goodnight, Draco.” He whispered back, but he lay awake for a long time, staring across the bed and imagining he could see the details of Draco’s face through the dark.

 

 

 “Ready, boys?” Narcissa asked cheerfully from the front seat beside the chauffeur. They had just pulled up at King’s Cross in the Malfoy’s so-called ‘inconspicuous’ Mercedes. Much like with the clothes, Harry was once again surprised to find out that they owned a muggle vehicle.

 “Yes.” Draco replied shortly and Harry just sighed. They hadn’t uttered a word to each other since last night, despite both being woken up bright and early by Kolby and finding themselves tangled together in a horrifying chaos of limbs.

 They all got out of the car, Harry and Draco each lugging their heavy trunks on to trolleys, Hedwig pecking angrily at Harry’s fingers after being abandoned for so long. They pushed their trolleys side by side but neither dared to make eye contact while Narcissa strode gracefully ahead of them, quickly disappearing through the bricks when they made it to platform 9 ¾. Harry stopped a few feet away and nodded resignedly at Draco who nodded wordlessly back before plunging through the barrier. Harry hung back for a few minutes, faltering. He took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the handle of his trolley before charging forwards. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as he was about to slam into the barrier, before opening them again as he emerged on the other side.

 He had just started glancing around when he was almost swept off his feet by something frizzy-haired and volatile hurtling into him and squeezing him so tightly that he couldn’t breathe.

 “Harry!” Hermione gasped and Harry hugged her tightly back, his unease fading as he saw Ron also racing towards them.

 “Oh Harry, we’ve been so worried!” Hermione sobbed as Ron reached them.

 “Yeah, Dumbledore told us you were safe but…” Ron swallowed “it’s really sucked without you, mate.”

 “I’ve missed you guys.” Harry said quietly, realizing as he said it how true it was. “Wait- what was that about Dumbledore?”

 Hermione finally released him and glanced at Ron. “Well, he’s the one that said we couldn’t send you any letters.” She said, brow creasing.

 Ron eyed him carefully “Weren’t you with him the last two weeks?” He asked.

 Harry shook his head and was about to reply when he saw Molly Weasley rushing over, a large black dog at her heels.

 “Later.” He said quickly to Ron and Hermione before he was crushed again, this time in Mrs Weasley’s arms.

 “Oh, how are you dear?” She gushed, holding Harry by the shoulders and looking him up and down with a tear in her eye. “You’re skin and bones!”

 “It’s good to see you, Mrs Weasley.” He smiled at her.

 “Oh Harry, you know it’s Molly by now.” She glanced at the dog beside her disdainfully “ _Snuffles_ insisted on coming along to check you were okay, even though I _told_ him how dangerous it would-” She broke off as ‘Snuffles’ licked Harry’s hand enthusiastically.

 “I really missed you Sir- er Snuffles.” Harry said sincerely just as the train horn sounded.

 “You’d better hurry up, all three of you” Mrs Weasley said, glancing anxiously at the train. “Have a great year, all of you. And send me lots of letters Ron!”

 They walked towards the train side by side, Fred and George calling out hellos and grasping Harry by the shoulder on their way past and Ginny smiling at him as she followed on their heels.

 “So, where have you been?” Ron asked in a low voice as they neared the door. Harry caught sight of Draco laughing with his friends, arm slung around Pansy Parkinson in the corner of his eye and swallowed, pressing through the throng of other students and onto the train. He grabbed Ron and Hermione both by the arm and dragged them into an empty compartment. He took a deep breath.

 “I’ve been at… Malfoy manor.”

 Ron and Hermione stared at him.

 “You might want to sit down for this.” Harry said, and they both sat speechlessly. He saw Hermione struggle to respond and smiled grimly as he sat down himself, across from them.

 “What?” Ron finally managed and Harry sighed, recounting to them how he had been kidnapped by Draco, imprisoned in the house by Lucius and finally what Lucius had told him about wanting out of the Death Eaters. By the time he had finished, Hermione was staring at him with concern in her eyes.

 “B-but Dumbledore told us…”

 Ron rolled his eyes and took over. “He wouldn’t let us write to you all summer long” he began “so we got really excited when Lupin marched in and demanded permission to bring you to Grimma- er HQ. But then the next day everyone said you were missing.”

 “We were all really worried.” Hermione added.

 “Yeah, we were” Ron continued “But then Dumbledore came over and told us all that he knew where you were and that you were safe.”

 Hermione snorted incredulously “Of course you weren’t safe- you were in the same house as a known Death Eater for Merlin’s sake!”

 Ron nodded ardently.

 “Ex-Death Eater now I suppose.” Harry said wearily. “Anyway, I got out in one piece, didn’t I?”

 Ron grinned at him unexpectedly “I don’t know how you did it, Harry.” He said shaking his head “But what was it like living with Malfoy?”

 Harry wasn’t sure what to say for a moment.

 “It was… strange.” He said truthfully “And I’m glad I don’t have to think about it anymore.”

 Both of them seemed to get the hint and didn’t comment on it further.

 “Hey, have you been reading the Daily Prophet lately?” Hermione asked.

 Harry’s eyes narrowed as he thought about the article he had read last week.

 “I’ve read a little.” He said darkly.

 “I guess you saw Fudge’s interview then.” She said, at his bleak expression, “I can’t believe the things he said about you and Dumbledore!”

 “Yeah, or that he’s trying to deny that You-know-who is back.” Ron added.

 Harry grimaced “Me neither, he’s not helping people by lying to them.”

 “Maybe he really doesn’t believe you.” Hermione said thoughtfully, but Ron shook his head.

  “Not likely. How else can he explain Cedric’s death? I didn’t see anything about _that_ in his interview.”

 Harry finally relaxed as the train sped up and his best friends continued discussing events of the summer. It was good to finally have someone back on his side.

 

 By the time the train was pulling in at Hogwarts station, Harry felt like himself again and laughter bubbled up more easily than it had all summer. Neville and Ginny joined them as they exited the train followed by a blond Ravenclaw girl with enormous eyes that they introduced as Luna.

 Harry halted in his tracks when they approached the coaches that would transport them up to the castle, his mouth hanging open.

 “Alright Harry?” Ron said beside him, eyeing him with concern.

 “Yeah but… what are those?” Harry spluttered, pointing at the disturbing creatures tethered to the front of each carriage. They were shaped roughly like horses but they were devoid of flesh- their skeletal frames hanging with withered grey skin. Ron looked in the direction that Harry was pointing in.

 “What are what?” He asked, smiling uneasily. Harry jumped when he suddenly felt a hand on his arm.

 “It’s okay, Harry.” Luna said softly, squeezing his arm “they’ve always been there.”

 Harry stared at her and slowly shook his head but she just smiled mysteriously and released him, continuing in to the carriage.

 “I don’t know what happened to you over summer” Ginny laughed “But if you’re seeing the same things as Loony Lovegood- it can’t have been anything good!”

 Harry didn’t say anything as they climbed into the carriage, unnerved by the strange creatures and more by the fact that he seemed to be the only one able to see them. That was, of course, except for Luna who was sitting across from him, nose buried in a newspaper that she appeared to be holding upside down.

 “What are you reading?” Harry asked her and she peered at him over the top of her paper. Thankfully, it didn’t appear to be The Prophet.

 “The Quibbler.” She said brightly “My father’s the editor.”

 Harry saw Hermione rolling her eyes in his peripheral and vaguely remembered her saying something derogatory about The Quibbler earlier on the train.

 “Cool.” Harry said warily “Any interesting stories?”

 “Of course!” Luna exclaimed, flicking through the pages on her lap. “There’s lots about nargles and crumple-horned snorlacks and-” she held the paper up to him “There’s even a bit about you.”

 Harry’s eyebrows rose and he examined the article more closely, surprised and relieved to find that it stated that its editors ‘fully believe Harry Potter’s warnings of You-know-who’s return’, referring to the Minister as ‘a miserable old buffoon with no respect for his people’. Harry wasn’t sure how much the opinion of someone nicknamed ‘Loony Lovegood’ mattered but he beamed back at Luna nonetheless.

 The coaches soon pulled up outside Hogwarts and Harry scrambled out excitedly, Ron on his heels although he did his best to ignore the presence of the strange horses as they made their way into the castle. Dumbledore’s welcoming speech was pleasantly familiar, although a little bitter sweet as Harry now knew that the old headmaster was the one who had been stopping him receiving any letters. The sorting ceremony, too, passed in a flash and Harry couldn’t keep from glancing at Draco every time a new student got sorted into Slytherin. He mentally chastised himself. This had to end- they’d already established that he and Draco could no longer be friends. Finally, Dumbledore was waving his hand and heaping plates of food appeared all along the tables. Harry managed to lose himself in the familiarity and warmth of the usual Gryffindor chatter as he devoured his favorite treacle tart. He released a contented sigh. No matter what else may be going on, it was definitely good to be home.

 That night, Harry made his way up to the Gryffindor common room amid a throng of the other fifth years but suddenly noticed that Ron and Hermione were nowhere to be seen. He shrugged unconcernedly and waited outside the portrait with Neville and Dean for a prefect to come and tell them the password.

 “Sorry we took so long!” He heard Hermione call out, Ron hurrying along the corridor beside her. He opened his mouth to tell them not to worry when he suddenly noticed matching badges pinned to the front of their robes. His brow suddenly creased, Ron and Hermione were… prefects?

 “Forgot to tell you with everything else, Harry” Ron grinned at him proudly “Only found out last week.”

 Harry bit back a brief flash of envious resentment before clapping Ron on the shoulder.

 “Well done mate.” He said, “You deserve it.”

 At Ron’s returning beam, Harry felt the traces of bitterness leave him. Ron _did_ deserve it, he had spent too long feeling outshone by the boy who lived. When Harry turned back to the others, Hermione had said the password and everyone was filtering into the common room. Harry was sure that he wasn’t the only one feeling drained from the journey, but Seamus and Dean had aggravated all of the fifth years into a game of exploding snap. The rounds seemed to drag on forever but eventually even Seamus was struggling to keep his eyes open and they all headed to their dormitories.

 Harry’s bed in Gryffindor tower was smaller and slightly shabbier than the one he had slept in at Malfoy manor, but it was far more comfortable and he was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. 


End file.
